The Archer's Secret
by raspberryscone
Summary: Alec is a member of The Golden King's Guard, and a faithful one at that. Renowned for both his extraordinary archery skills and his loyalty, he has everything he could ever want. It's a shame, though, that at that point the mysterious Magnus Bane decides to turn his entire world upside down with nothing more than a sultry wink and a not-so-innocent handshake. AU
1. Red Velvet

_This is pretty much the result of me binge-watching Game of Thrones (this is a major hint as to what this fic will be about, by the way) and fangirling about Malec - and, well, I think that's enough of a warning on its own, haha... So, yes, this will be an AU. And yes, this will be something else. And yes, there will also be lemons at some point, but probably not very soon. Remember, appearances can be deceiving..._

 _Shout-out to my wonderful beta twillandbonnie, who was kind enough to sort through the flowery crap that is my writing and enable me to present you with this brand-new story! :D Thanks again!_

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _I don't own these wonderful characters, sadly. Instead, they belong to Cassandra Clare. Which is probably for the best._

There was a boy in the corner, playing with the shutters. The hinges creaked as he moved the shutters inward and then pushed them open again, reducing the daylight filtering through the crack between them and then maximising it once more. The red interior of the room blazed like fire when the sunlight illuminated the rich fabrics, and the polished floor gleamed golden for a few brief moments.

Alec was torn between telling him to stop and staring at the scene, since it was more than obvious that this was one of the most interesting things that had happened since he took position beside the closed doors a while ago. His muscles were getting weary and cramped from staying in the same position for too long, and the thick leather of his armour was too warm for this kind of weather; the tunic he wore underneath was sticking to his sweaty back. He knew removing the armour would be like peeling off a second layer of skin, which made him crinkle his nose in disgust. He hated the warm weather, and he hated standing guard, and he hated brothels, too.

The many female prostitutes ambling around in scarce clothing just didn't do the trick for him.

More his fault than theirs, honestly, but still.

"You look lonely."

Alec blinked when he heard the sultry voice, turning his head to locate the source. It was a tall man with a lean physique. His skin was caramel-coloured and unblemished. He wore a crimson robe, probably velvet judging from the expensive sheen of the soft fabric that hung loosely around his slender frame. He was drop-dead gorgeous, Alec's mind was unhelpfully supplying, and his eyes hadn't even travelled up to his face yet.

That problem was quickly resolved within another blink of his eyes, and what he saw there, perched on lean shoulders, took his breath away. His features were distinctly foreign with a strong jaw and a caramel complexion, his hair an inky black and expertly styled. His lips were full and even his ears were perfectly-shaped, but the most stunning and exotic feature of this man were his eyes. They were absolutely breathtaking, and not like anything Alec had ever seen before.

They were almond-shaped, and the irises were this rare mixture of gold and emerald; the little yellow flecks in them were perceivable even from a distance and seemed to jump around, giving his gaze something mesmerising and therefore making it impossible to break away from.

He could feel himself growing uncomfortably hot in response to the man's mere appearance, and he silently cursed himself. Just something he would do, lust after the first incredibly attractive man he ran into – in a public space, of all places. Of course, a brothel wasn't as populated or public a place as a market square, but still; it was a very bad idea.

When Alec seemed to be too breathless and stricken (and horny) to answer, something flickered in the male's eyes. Alec idly noticed he was barefoot when he stepped closer to him and lowered his voice to a husky whisper which went straight to Alec's nether regions.

"Very lonely, even. What is a pretty man like you doing here as a mere watchdog? Surely there are more valuable ways to spend your time?" Alec shifted his weight uncomfortably and moved backwards to put as much distance between the prostitute and himself as possible. His efforts were rewarded by his back hitting the wall after he'd shuffled just two steps backward, which did absolutely nothing to further the distance between them and only seemed to encourage the other man to step closer – and effectively trap Alec between his lean body and the wall.

"Just standing guard. Sir," he croaked out, but his voice was as unstable as his wobbly knees and he was a mess. He wanted to check their surroundings to make sure they didn't have any spectators. He really wanted to flee, but he just couldn't. He just couldn't tear his gaze away from those golden-green irises, and he was pretty sure he would sink to the ground like putty if he actually moved a step in any direction whatsoever. Of course this was the kind of predicament he would find himself in, with a sinfully handsome man no less.

"How loyal. The thing is, Alexander Lightwood," the way his name rolled off the man's tongue, as well as the fact that he cared enough to recall it in the first place, did things to him he didn't even want to acknowledge, "I've never heard of any man who was actually capable of standing guard inside a brothel. It's often just too distracting, with all those pretty ladies." He gestured around but Alec's eyes didn't follow. He wasn't interested in those pretty ladies, and the prostitute's smirk told him he was perfectly aware of that.

"I'm not interested," he somehow managed to say, stating the obvious.

"Aren't you?"

"No. Not at all." He tried to make his voice fierce, to tell the guy that it was time to back off, but either the message didn't get across or the man just waved it away, recognising it as a complete fluke.

"There is no fooling me, Alexander. This is my profession. I know exactly what you are," the man whispered in his ear, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand erect (much like a certain other body part of his) with anticipation and perhaps a little bit of fear.

He hadn't been figured out before, not by anyone else than his own sister anyway, and it was unnerving that a person he had met just a couple of minutes ago, a person he didn't even know the name of, had unmasked him within a single bat of the eye. Although, perhaps, that was just because this person actually knew what he was looking for, whereas others couldn't be bothered, weren't willing to consider or just weren't aware of the possibility.

"And what is that?" Too little, too late. Too insincere.

"Isn't that obvious? There is no shame in being what you are, Alexander. Not when you are in like-minded company," he told him with a wink.

"Oh." It was the best reply he could come up with. It was actually pretty impressive his dry lips managed to part at all and that he could concentrate long enough to force a sound to roll over his uncooperative tongue. The reply itself was barely more than a shaky exhale.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the man said, grabbing Alec's left hand and bringing it to his lips like a lord might do to a lady. The fingers of Alec's free hand dug into the wall behind him in either an attempt to keep standing upright on his unsteady knees or keep himself rooted to the earth. He didn't know. "I'm Magnus Bane."

Magnus kissed the knuckles of his hand. All of them. Then his tongue darted between the crack between his index and middle fingers, and Alec wondered how embarrassing it would be if such a tiny gesture caused him to topple over the edge.

"Alexander Lightwood," he practically squeaked.

"I know," Magnus said, clearly amused by his inability to think straight; of course Magnus knew who he was, he had just called him by name!

Damn! Magnus knew exactly what he was doing to him, and he probably knew what was at stake, too. He wondered if Magnus was just toying with him, seeing how far he could push before Alec gave in and started doing things he might regret, things that might get him confirmed as that something else he dreaded (something that could cost him his life; Idris laws were very old-fashioned and not at all reliant of those preferring the company men over that of women), and that thought cleared his head enough to at least give him a possibility to react.

He jerked his hand away from Magnus's grip like he had been burnt.

"I do not want this," he said, and when realisation dawned on Magnus's features, he knew that at least he understood. It wasn't that Magnus wasn't obnoxiously attractive, and it wasn't that Alec surely wouldn't mind lying back and allowing Magnus to do unspeakable things to him, but it just was that he could not. What if someone found out? What if Magnus or one of the other girls didn't keep their mouth shut? What if what had just transpired reached the ears of his parents; even though it was little more than a meeting in certain ways, it certainly was enough to raise suspicion, wasn't it? He should have pushed Magnus away instead of allowing himself to become completely mellow in his hands.

Magnus tentatively reached out for Alec's left hand again, and Alec let him. "You do," Magnus said softly, threading his fingers through Alec's and he could basically feel the tension glide away again. He had never been touched by another man like this, not with such clear intentions, had never been looked at with lust and never really allowed himself to think about the possibility of him laying with another man. Surely, he fantasised about it, and meeting a gorgeous man did wonderful things to his entire body, but actually being open about it was completely out of the question. He played his disinterest in women off as a sign of professionalism and loyalty, and so far he had succeeded in using that as a cover-up. Only his sister knew of his actual situation, and that had happened by accident.

It was just too much to receive the undivided attention of such a gorgeous man in a place that reeked like sex and sweat and exotic perfumes. It tore down his walls like a bull tore through a fence.

Magnus tugged on his hand to get his attention, and Alec's gaze locked into Magnus's mesmerising one. He could read understanding and many other things he couldn't quite place there. Magnus was too well-guarded for him to figure out within a handful of minutes after initially meeting him. He wasn't quite as open of a book as Alec tended to be which was completely understandable considering his profession. Alec had nothing to hide and nothing to lie about – aside from his sexuality, which was actually quite the secret to keep.

Alec allowed himself to be led through the floor they were currently on and then up a set of narrow stairs that protested loudly under their weight. They walked down a corridor, Magnus's fingers still loosely threaded with his, and came to a stop in front of a closed door. His long fingers wrapped around the doorknob and he twisted it gently, easing the door open. It swayed inward with a silent sigh and no creaking hinges.

Magnus led him inside and then let him go, closing the door with both hands.

They were in a nice suite, which was to be expected of an accommodation that was in such a high regard as this one. The theme of golds and reds had persisted here, and the king-sized bed next to the window was covered in richly-embroidered golden pillows and crimson sheets. A burgundy rug lay on the floor. Yellow fabric covered the open window filtered the incoming sunlight and made it less intense whilst bathing the entire room in a golden hue. It was warm but not unpleasantly so; they were probably on a cooler side of the building where the sun wasn't directly heating up the air.

"Make yourself comfortable," Magnus said after he'd poured them both a cup of wine. He pressed Alec's into his hand as he moved past him before plopping down onto the bed.

Alec awkwardly lowered himself into a chair near the unused fireplace. The room was tidy. It was swept, and there was a kettle standing on the mantelpiece, probably awaiting colder days and a neat pile of chopped wood next to the hearth itself in case it was desired. He wondered if these were Magnus's private chambers considering the fact he hadn't even bothered to check whether they were occupied before ambling in or if they just often went unused.

He decided it wasn't a train of thought worth pursuing and pushed his curiosity towards the back of his mind.

There were a lot more important things to think about.

His armour creaked as he shifted in his seat. "You can take it off, if you want to," Magnus said. He was lying amidst the pillows on the bed, his cup held between his slender fingers as he lazily swayed the liquid from side to side. He supported his chin with one propped hand, watching Alec intently through half-lidded eyes. His clothing blended in with his surroundings, making the green of his eyes even more popping and intense. Alec still had a hard time tearing his gaze away from him. He was just too captivating.

When he saw the hesitance on Alec's face, he sighed and rolled his eyes like Alec was being exceptionally difficult. "I won't do anything to you." Yet, probably! "It just seems like a burden."

And it was. He was glad a simple visit to the brothel not too far from the castle didn't require him to be fully-armed; he was just wearing his leather pads and his chain mail, not his fancy armour. He hadn't even brought his bow and quiver along. He was good with a sword but exceptionally skilled with a bow, and it pained him to leave his preferred weapon behind but bringing it along made him less mobile, so it was a tactical decision to make.

Still, was it wise to shrug off his armour in front of someone he had just met? Even though Magnus was clearly unarmed (there was literally no place for him to hide weapons – not with his tight clothing and his light robe), it still seemed to go against his principles. Plus, if he removed his chain mail that meant he would be left in just his tunic and breeches, which gave him preciously little cover if Magnus did something that would arouse him. Which, at this point, varied from Magnus batting his eyelashes to him even so much as shifting on the bed. His imagination was running wild and his body was greedily feeding off it, though not as bad as before. It certainly helped that Magnus wasn't directly touching him.

Was modesty really worth discomfort, though? He knew he would be stuck here for a while, and he also knew Magnus knew what his mere presence was doing to him, so keeping himself covered hardly mattered. Despite his attempts to be subtle, he might as well be sitting here with everything out in the open. Magnus could probably read him and his strained movements like an open book which was not only unfair but also highly embarrassing. Why did he allow such a handsome man to pull him into his bedroom again?

When Magnus threatened to get up to remove the armour himself, Alec finally caved. He put his cup on the mantelpiece for the time being as he worked on the knots that kept his thick leather armour strapped to his shoulders and arms.

"So, tell me a story." Alec looked up from his shoulder with raised eyebrows. "It's not like we are going to do anything else. Might as well entertain one another. Tell me a story. About you."

"I am sure my story is nothing in comparison to the stories you have already heard."

"Quite possibly – but at the moment hearing your story is the only thing I am interested in. The tales I have heard in the past are hardly relevant to the present."

"Is that so? If I remember correctly our entire monarchy is based on tales from the past." This Alec could do, he thought as he finished untying one arm and focused on the next. Simply talking was something he could achieve without getting too flustered. Magnus seemed intelligent and witty; a good conversational partner. He wondered why he was so surprised. Honestly, it wasn't like the only talent a prostitute (it made him wince to think about Magnus like that, but even though he was a male, that word did define his profession) had to have was being a great fuck. Most people demanded more than that, right? Wasn't going to a brothel a remedy for feeling lonely, too?

"Very true. But let's not talk about the history of the monarchy for the moment."

"What a shame," Alec scoffed, causing Magnus to laugh. He finally finished untying his armour and got up to peel it off and hang it over another chair. The experience was as unpleasant as expected since the thick, padded leather had pretty much attempted to fuse with his the soft leather of his tunic and the softer texture of his skin. His chain mail chimed merrily as he put it away.

His tunic was drenched with sweatm and he personally thought he looked gross and unattractive.

When he turned around, he saw Magnus gawking at him. Apparently he didn't quite share Alec's train of thought. He felt his cheeks flush and quickly moved back to the chair, lowering himself onto it again and snatching his cup from the mantelpiece like it was a lifeline.

Magnus's eyes just kept roving over his body.

"Didn't know you were hiding that, Lightwood," he said appreciatively. Alec supposed the tunic left very little to the imagination, with it sticking to every curve of his muscular body and all. At least he didn't have a noticeable erection, which was a small mercy. Although if Magnus continued to stare at him like that, he was pretty sure the blood would soon start rushing elsewhere than his cheeks. He was fit as was to be expected from someone in his position. He spent entire days training and horse-riding, and that did wonderful things for his body. Magnus seemed to think so as well.

"Anyway. My story," Alec said, his cheeks an alarming shade of red as he took a tentative sip of his wine. He didn't care for wine very much. He preferred beer, and even that he only drank with a sense of mild disgust. There were very few alternatives available, however, so he was used to drinking it. He just didn't enjoy it. Magnus seemed to notice. Magnus seemed to notice everything, from his comfortable position perched between his pillows. It made Alec self-conscious, but not in a bad way, somehow. Magnus had been open about thinking that Alec was attractive, and perhaps that had soothed some of his nerves. Had made him feel a bit more confident in himself. He liked the feeling; it was addictive.

"Yes, your story." Magnus shifted a little on his bed with his beautiful eyes focused solely on Alec's face, causing his cheeks to heat up.

"I think you know most of it already."

"Perhaps I do, but now I have been offered a rare insight in the matters. Please do continue."

He wondered what Magnus would do with the information he was about to receive. Probably store it away for later use. He wasn't sure how much he could share with someone like Magnus. He wasn't exactly an expert in this field, and he didn't know if there were rules to be followed or anything. Probably not. It probably just depended on how honest the prostitute was and how much they liked you. And how easily they could be bribed.

Still, he should be careful with overly personal details, just in case. They hadn't done anything to each other, but if Magnus decided to make up some story and he actually had proof of Alec's obvious attraction to him, then he could destroy him by just simply contacting the court, and he didn't want that to happen.

On the other hand, it was really nice to have someone pay attention to him and him alone. He was used to standing in the shadows, and even though he had never particularly minded, it was still nice to be in the spotlight even if just for a single person. No, the entire reason why he didn't mind standing in the spotlight at the moment was because of that single person.

He wanted Magnus to like him, even though it probably was in Magnus's description to be nice to anyone and reel in as much money as he could within as short of a period of time as possible, but that was something to mull over later. He didn't want to be weighed down by the knowledge that Magnus's interest in him was on a purely professional level, and he probably acted like this with anyone.

There was nothing exclusive about chatting with a whore, no matter how much he might wish for it to be.

"I grew up in the castle with my younger sister and Jace." It seemed weird to call Jace King Jonathan in Magnus's presence. For some reason, he got the feeling that titles didn't really matter here, which was nice. "And my younger brother and my parents and quite a few other people. Anyway, I had a really nice childhoo, which can of course be expected. When the late King died, he left behind his son, who was taken in by my family, so they could raise him instead. Jace immediately became my best friend."

"And something more," Magnus interrupted softly. Alec was taken aback by that.

"Not at all."

"No, but you wanted it to be."

"I was young, and I was foolish. I was confused. I did not know what I wanted, that was the entire problem. I spent years convincing myself that what was just a sliver of interest mixed with an overwhelming amount of confusion was full-blown attraction, and then I spent many more years beating myself up about it. I never felt anything for Jace. I was just obsessed with the idea of me feeling something for him, and I think the fact that he was so unreachable and it never was going to happen anyway gave me a feeling of safety. Or, well, gave me an excuse to make my own life even more difficult. I dragged myself through the dirt just because I was misunderstanding who I was and what I felt."

Magnus's interest seemed to be piqued by that, but he kept his pretty mouth closed, his lower lip sticking out in a cute little pout that was most definitely deliberate.

"Anyway, like I said, I had a nice childhood. Being the eldest son of an influential and very wealthy family, my position in the King's Guard was pretty much secured even before I properly befriended the King-in-waiting. So I spent my days training to be a decent soldier. I learnt a lot of things and travelled to a lot of places. Have you ever gone to the shore?"

When Magnus shook his head after a moment of hesitation, Alec continued enthusiastically. "You should. It's amazing."

"You are a wanderer."

"Not quite, I'm just curious." There was a shimmer in Magnus's eyes that made him blush. Again. "I took a liking to archery and fighting and reading, and I started active duty when I was sixteen due to my father's insistence."

"And when did you find out?"

Alec didn't have to ask what he was talking about. Instead, he shifted in his chair and took another contemplative sip of his wine. He wasn't stalling for effect or due to reluctance, it was more that he wasn't entirely sure. Had he known when his infatuation for Jace had started to grow to disastrous proportions, or was it before that? Or afterwards, when he met Moris, who not only returned his interests but was also a member of another important family? Who was also coincidentally the first and last guy he had ever kissed?

Magnus was still waiting when Alec made up his mind. "I must have been twelve," he decided. "When Jace joined our family. I didn't come to terms with it until I was seventeen, though."

"And even now you are still hiding." When Alec shrugged, Magnus rose from the bed to pour himself another cup of wine. He raised a single eyebrow and tilted his head in the direction of Alec's cup, still half full.

He shook his head, too affected by that sexy eyebrow to trust himself to speak. Once Magnus had poured his fill, he ambled back to the bed and once again lowered himself into that lazy, casual position. He was all long limbs and lean muscle, and there was not a thing about him that Alec didn't feel extremely attracted to which presented a problem.

"What about you?" he asked quietly, suddenly feeling the urge to turn the tables for just a single question.

"Oh, me? I have always known." When Alec was about to protest, Magnus tapped his long fingers against the rim of his cup and gave him a look that told him to hold his horses for a second longer. "I am born into this. My mother was a prostitute, and my father was an unpleasant asshole I have fortunately never had the displeasure to meet which made things pretty tricky from the day I was born. My mother was allowed to keep me, because a whorehouse can always use a helping hand that needn't be paid, and she was well-loved. I grew up doing little chores. Making the beds and cleaning the linen and refilling the jugs of wine; things a boy my age could handle.

"I must have been eleven when I found out I thought male genitals were a tad too enticing to be completely normal, and when I confronted my mother about it, she was torn between happiness since there was a future for me aside from being tossed on the streets once I grew older and too much to handle for the master of the house, and sadness, because not everyone is cut out to live a life like we do. She kept it quiet for a few months, just to make sure. Then things started to change. I was becoming too old to keep around without forming a threat, so my mother went to the owner of the pleasure house and negotiated with him. By that time I had been taught to do many things. I was trained to do make-up and braid hair, to wash and clean and bathe, and I was valuable. Even more so since I was also capable of performing other actions."

Alec was listening with bated breath. He wondered why Magnus was being so open with him, so honest.

"I was twelve when he sold me to another brothel in another city. There I was schooled in what it meant to pleasure a man. This brothel had another man like me around, which was why I was sold to them in the first place; not every place specialises in homo-erotic preferences, after all." The casual tone of voice with which Magnus said that caused Alec to blush. Nearly everything that tumbled over those full lips caused him to blush, as a matter of fact.

"I learnt the most from the women, though. They were more open about it, more helpful. After that, I was transferred a dozen other times, until I finally ended up here in the capital."

There was so much more to that story, but Alec already felt honoured Magnus had been willing to share this much with him and didn't dare to pry. He opened his mouth to respond and continue his inquiry, since something sad had seemed to creep into Magnus's story along the road, but never got the chance to.

Someone knocked on the door, and when Magnus told them to come in, a blonde girl swayed into the room. She was a beauty, although whether this was due to her expertly-applied make-up and ointments or due to natural beauty, Alec couldn't tell. Her blonde hair had been done up in a complicated braid, a few loose curls falling over her shoulders and framing her face. Her eyes were green, but not nearly as enticing or unique as Magnus's. Her skin was a light gold, like syrup or honey.

"Camille," Magnus said with a smile and a nod. Camille didn't seem very interested in Magnus, though. Instead, she focused on Alec, who was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace and looking positively sheepish, wondering what would have happened if Magnus and he had been in a passionate make-out session. Camille probably would have barged in anyway. This hardly seemed like a place where privacy was considered a high priority, but he could be mistaken. What could he know, after all?

"His Majesty seems to have lost his favourite guard. He wants me to tell you that if you don't hurry up he's going home alone and will have your sister scold you."

Magnus and Camille wore identical grins as Alec placed his cup on the arm of the chair and jumped up. Isabelle could be scary when she wanted to, and he would be damned before he allowed Jace to cross the streets without him by his side, even though there was a handful of guards waiting outside, ready to escort the King home.

And he kind of felt like he was overstaying his welcome, anyway; he certainly didn't know how many more raised eyebrows and meaningful glances he could perceive without caving.

He expertly tied his armour around his frame, his fingers easily making the necessary knots. It was always harder to shed the armour than to don it, and he had been deliberately stalling it before. Now, he was done within just a few moments, entirely aware of both Magnus and Camille's gaze devouring him while he did so.

He wondered what Camille thought of him being there with Magnus. He also wondered what Magnus thought of him and if he would think about him after he left him. Probably not.

He saluted Magnus (receiving a sultry glance and a wiggling of long, slender fingers in return) and rushed through the door, Camille on his heels to escort him to where Jace was waiting. He would probably mock him for this, probably jump to the wrong conclusions and congratulate him for finally getting laid, but he didn't care. Talking with Magnus had been wonderful, and he didn't regret it. Not at all.

 _Let me know what you think of it! Reviews are always very welcome! :D_


	2. Green Silk

_Whoop whoop, what is this? An update?! And it's even longer than the previous chapter? Thank you so much for the favs/follows and reviews! I really appreciate them and I'm really glad people actually like this! I really enjoy writing for this so! :]_

 _Shout-out to my wonderful beta twillandbonnie, who once again helped me out and made sure this chapter is the best it can be. Thank you so much! ^.^_

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _I don't own these wonderful characters, sadly. Instead, they belong to Cassandra Clare. Which is probably for the best._

It was nearly two weeks after Alec's first encounter with Magnus when Jace told him he wanted to visit the brothel again, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Alec wasn't thrilled about having to return in the slightest, though; sure, now that he had met Magnus these visits would become more than him just standing guard outside a room (or, well, that's what he was hoping for), but they also filled him with dread. The fortnight that had passed between then and now had given him enough time to mull everything over.

He found himself thinking about a certain green and yellow-eyed man when he mentored the younger recruits or parried with his fellow soldiers during drills. His mind continued to wander when he stood guard and when he ate and when he talked to his sister and even to the king. He had actually started to avoid the soldiers' steam baths altogether, because he feared what exactly his mind would come up with in such an environment.

The effect that merely thinking about Magnus Bane had on him was simply ludicrous, honestly.

Sometimes, when his thoughts once again decided to stray, he wondered where Magnus had suddenly come from. Jace and he had visited the very same brothel countless times before; their regular visits had started shortly after Jace's official coronation which had been a couple of his name days and several moons ago. Even so, he had never seen Magnus sauntering about until their previous visit.

Perhaps he had been preoccupied during the times before that? It was a possibility. A possibility Alec didn't want to think about since imagining Magnus with anyone else, men or women alike, made him feel uncomfortable.

This infatuation with Magnus Bane was unhealthy; he was aware of that. He wasn't searching for a quick fling, for a night of unlimited passion in exchange for silver coins, just to be alone again after that. He wanted more, had always wanted more, and he was well aware that that wasn't something he could ask of Magnus (or of anyone, for that matter). Magnus only appreciated him for his body, perhaps for his wit. Even that was debatable and was only because his profession told him to show interest. If they had met in another place at another time, he probably wouldn't have looked twice at Alec when in passing. He was just not remarkable enough. Not for a man like Magnus Bane.

Which led him to another train of thought entirely. Shouldn't he have been charged for wasting Magnus's time? Surely even talking to him and occupying him for that short while they had spent together was more than enough reason for Magnus to ask something from him? He didn't know; he didn't have any experience with situations like these and he wasn't about to ask anyone else about it either, not Jace at least. That was for sure. He was quite certain that Jace had never left a prostitute unsatisfied, so he would be a useless source of information. He would just give Alec shit for not being able to do what he was supposed to.

"You're quiet," Jace observed, shaking him out of his reverie. He was looking at him with slightly narrowed eyes, a pensive look on his face that was not commonly seen on Jace's handsome complexion. The Golden King was sitting astride his strong golden stallion, and with the evening sun behind him, Jace seemed to glow completely gold indeed.

The courser was gnawing on its bit and heavily protesting the easy gait with which they cantered down the hill toward the city that waited beyond. The golden mane fanned out in the gentle breeze, and the wind swooshed as its golden tail swept from side to side in impatience. The stallion was strong with a majestic front hand and a lean back, the golden coat rippling with the movement of the strong muscles underneath. It wasn't Jace's only horse, but he preferred this stallion over his enormous black destrier, a horse that was a lot less hot-headed than this one was.

Alec's own mare was not quite as temperamental; the horse with her beautiful grulla coat was reliable and friendly. The rouncey was quick, fast and intelligent where Jace's stallion was all dumb muscle and barely-contained power. The mare was smaller than Jace's horse too, and the difference between their withers caused Jace and him to be of equal height, which was quite the rarity indeed since Alec had almost a head on him.

"Just thinking."

"You always are. You just need to let yourself go sometimes, Alec. Seriously, if you just blew off some steam more often you would be a lot more likeable and tolerable."

It was heart-warming that Jace thought so highly of him and his company. "I would say the same for you, only you are never likeable."

"I can call upon thousands of ladies who will readily disagree with that."

"And I have only myself, and yet I stand by what I said." Arrow, his horse, danced to the side and snorted in annoyance when Jace's stallion lashed out to nip in their direction. Alec placed a calming hand on the neck of his mount, threading his fingers through the dark mane. Jace laughed when he saw Alec's bemused expression.

"Don't be so difficult, Alec. You know you love me."

Alec shifted in his saddle and muttered back half-heartedly, "I most certainly do not. You're lucky you're family."

"Like I said, true love."

Fortunately, the brothel wasn't that far away, and they were dismounting their horses before that conversation could go somewhere no one wanted it to go to. The thought of what was waiting for him inside the brothel seemed to distract Jace's mind, and he let the subject go much to Alec's relief.

It wasn't that he was still in love with Jace. He hadn't lied to Magnus at all. That was genuinely how he interpreted his stupid crush on his friend and adoptive brother during his adolescence, and he knew it was a very plausible theory. But still, his feelings had seriously confused him back then, and discussing matters like those with Jace still made him feel very awkward. He simply preferred to discuss other matters with Jace and preferably not anything that had to do with feelings whether they be past or present.

Alec followed Jace inside and soon found himself in his usual place. It was busier today, though; upon entering the brothel, they had been greeted with the persistent scent of the exotic incense that they used to make the place feel more exquisite and pretentious than it actually was. They had passed through what could only be considered the common room, which was filled with the scarcely-clad women and their lovers for the afternoon, who were draped all over each other and created a harmony of too loud laughter that was too fake, too many strong tales that were told, and the clinking of cups and the sloshing of wine and the sound of flesh on flesh.

Alec was relieved when they had been escorted to another, more private area of the brothel, where a group of girls in flimsy dresses was already waiting. Alec didn't even bother to look at anything else than the ground in front of his feet as he assumed his usual position next to the doors that were, fortunately, closed on him.

Alec's alert eyes soon found the little boy who had been playing with the shutters a fortnight ago. The boy caught his gaze, ducked his head and scurried away. His red robes flashed and his tanned skin gleamed as he walked past a window, and then disappeared out of sight, leaving Alec without as much as a nod in his direction.

The temperature was as unpleasant as the time before, and after a short while he could feel the droplets of sweat running down his temples, sticking his hair to his face, before continuing their path down his back. He longingly thought about Arrow who was now probably nibbling on her hay in the cool stable complex and how he would much rather spend this time with her, galloping through the forest and battling the wind.

That thought was quickly erased from his mind when he could hear the soft tapping of bare feet against the marble staircase, and as his eyes rose to meet the newcomer, he could feel his heart skip a beat. Or maybe a handful. Descending the stairs was Magnus. Alec's imagination hadn't done him justice. He was far more handsome in real life. His attire was green today, his robe spun from what was undoubtedly the finest silk. It shone brilliantly in the sunlight, bringing out the green in his eyes and the caramel of his unblemished skin. It was untied, showing off Magnus's lean chest and stomach. Alec's eyes strayed even lower without him even realising until he caught himself and quickly forced them to focus on Magnus's beautiful face instead.

Magnus looked amused, his lips curled into a knowing smile, and one of his eyebrows raised almost tauntingly. His tongue poked out to lick his lower lip, and Alec could feel his cheeks grow hotter and hotter with each passing, too shallow breath. Magnus's black hair had been left loose today, and the soft strands brushed over his forehead as he walked.

"Hello there," Magnus said, grabbing Alec's hand in his own slender ones as he bent forward to kiss the back of it much like their first meeting. His eyes glanced upward cheekily as he once again dipped his tongue between Alec's index and middle fingers, and then traced a path across his knuckles before dipping between his middle and ring fingers as well, for good measure. Alec could feel himself growing uncomfortably hot everywhere, and he nearly groaned from whatever emotion was currently winning the battle raging inside of him at that moment.

He bit his bottom lip – which caused Magnus's gaze to trail downwards to his lips – and forced himself to get his act together. "Good afternoon," he managed to say, biting his lip again.

"Magnus."

"Alexander," Magnus purred in response, his green eyes narrowing ever so slightly in delight. "Care to join me?"

"Of course." He was pretty sure his feigned nonchalance wasn't fooling anyone, but he could at least try.

Magnus once again led him through the corridor, up the set of narrow stairs and down another corridor before easing the door open to the same room they had resided in the time before, making sure to comment on several stylish mishaps and other irrelevant topics along the way.

When Alec followed Magnus into the room, he was surprised to see that the interior of the room had changed as well. Its theme no longer fitted that of the rest of the brothel; Magnus had apparently gotten tired of the golds and reds and decided it was time for a change. The yellow cloth was still in place, though, turning the incoming sunlight more of a rich gold than a whitish yellow.

The rest of the room was now a plethora of greens. The room smelt strongly like sandalwood, stronger than it had the time before if Alec recalled it correctly – although his mind could not quite be trusted at the moment – and when Alec's gaze flickered back to Magnus again, he noticed that the man blended in perfectly with his surroundings.

"Feeling green today?" Alec asked, eyebrows raised, as he accepted the cup of wine Magnus gracefully offered him. The wine was, fortunately, a rich purplish red. He wasn't sure if he could handle it if that had been coloured green as well.

"Very much. I am happy you noticed. Every now and then, I just feel this overwhelming urge to redecorate." Magnus said, winking. Alec hummed in response, still looking around the room as he repeated Magnus's words in his head. He was sure there was some kind of hidden meaning here that he just couldn't seem to pinpoint. Magnus was trying to toy with him behind his back, and this green exterior was part of it. Magnus raised that one eyebrow again (which caused his blush to flare again, of course) as he lowered himself slowly onto his bed and stretched himself out with the grace of a feline, lazy and seductive and irresistible and careless all at the same time. It almost seemed like Magnus was a walking contradiction, sometimes.

Surely it wasn't possible for someone to be that captivating.

Alec slowly lowered himself into the armchair he had occupied the time before, lacking all the grace Magnus had and coming down with a loud thud, his mind still racing in order to come to peace with the current situation.

Magnus smiled at him. A smile that drove him mad with desire and want and just made his heart beat faster and his blood rush louder, and made it very hard for Alec to focus on anything else than the two eyes that were watching him intently.

"What are you thinking about?" Magnus's voice resounded, low and amazing, and Alec wondered if he would be able to feel the vibration of those words in Magnus's chest if he pressed his ear against it.

He decided that he most definitely did not want to share that particular thought. "Nothing."

He put his cup on the mantelpiece and started to untie his armour. "Is that so?" Magnus rose from the bed and approached Alec slowly. Probably to make sure Alec didn't startle and flee. Alec had half a mind to do just that but forced himself to focus on his armour instead.

"Nothing important, anyway. Just something about the Guard."

"You are not supposed to think about the Guard when you are here," Magnus said, a small pout appearing on his face. He put his cup next to Alec's before swatting the blue-eyed man's hands away. First, he cupped Alec's cheeks, his long fingers soft and gentle as they were splayed across Alec's pale skin. His eyes fluttered shut. He was too overwhelmed by the sensation, by how good and comfortable it felt. He wanted to feel those fingers all over his body.

"Sorry," he apologised, his eyes fluttering open again to meet Magnus's tender and thoughtful gaze.

"Don't apologise. Not with those beautiful eyes. You have the bluest eyes I have ever seen, do you know that? Like the summer sky when the sun is at its highest, like the sea where the beaches are the whitest. So bright and deep and intelligent. They twinkle when you smile, they spark with fire when you laugh. It is a shame you do not allow yourself to do that more often."

Alec was pretty much breathless by the time Magnus's fingers left his cheeks and chased his jawline before trailing down to his shoulders, setting to work on removing his armour for him. It was easier with two hands. It was easier when you could actually see what you were doing. It was simply an act of kindness to save him the trouble of having to do it on his own, but it seemed like so much more, somehow.

His body seemed to be convinced of that, at least; his breathing came more quickly than it should and his heart was beating in his throat, and there was something so intense about this situation that he just really didn't know how to handle it.

And, of course, Magnus noticed but kept quiet about it, a calculated kindness in him that Alec appreciated. It was already complicated enough to fight a battle with himself, let alone if Magnus decided to join in. Why did Magnus Bane have the ability to coax such a reaction out of him, anyway? Why couldn't he just keep it together like he was normally capable of doing? He hadn't kept his sexuality a secret by nearly orgasming every time a guy touched him, and yet here he was, on the brink of just doing that!

"So," Alec croaked, desperate for a distraction. Magnus was still working on his armour, but he raised an eyebrow in question. That eyebrow. That single eyebrow. Why did he have to do that? Alec nearly groaned but managed to disguise it as a heavy sigh instead. He wasn't sure whether Magnus was buying it. "Are you still interested in my story?"

"Very much."

"All right. We ended with me joining the King's Guard, did we not?"

"Just before that, actually. You told me you started your service, but never specified it."

"The ceremony is hardly important or noteworthy."

"To me it is. I have never heard anyone talk about it before. Not first-hand, anyway." That did come as a bit of a surprise; Magnus just came across as someone who knew everything, who had seen it all. The fact that Alec, with his considerably dull and uneventful life, had a piece of new information for him was unexpected.

"That is because it is not a big deal." Magnus finished his left arm and moved in front of him to tend to his right. His leg brushed against Alec's knees as he strode past. "The ceremony is pretty short. They hand you a ceremonial dagger with a handle made of bone and engraved with the emblem of the ruling House."

"House Herondale has a soaring eagle, no?"

"Yes. Black and white eagles with golden eyes on golden banners."

"And the Lightwoods have wolves, don't they? Although I do think a different species of animal would fit you better."

"Yes, the Lightwoods have wolves," Alec said. The black banners of his House with the pale, howling wolves on them were the sole reminders of the wealth and power the Lightwoods once had. Now, there were hardly any men who still bore the Lightwood colours, and his parents had been bound to Alicante for the last decades. "What animal fits better, then?"

"One that is more intelligent and cunning, more graceful as well," Magnus mused as he eased Alec out of his armour, placing it gently on the back of an unused chair like Alec himself had done the time before. Instead of returning to the bed, however, he remained standing. He fetched his cup from the mantelpiece and then proceeded to nurse his drink with a thoughtful glint to his eyes. "A feline, perhaps?"

"A mountain lion?"

"Perhaps," Magnus said, although he did not seem entirely convinced. "It would fit the trademark Lightwood eyes, would it not?" Alec was a bit surprised that Magnus knew so much about the Houses, apparently since he himself did not originate from the Kingdom of Idris. With his caramel complexion, he was probably from south of the Great Sea.

"But please do continue; you were talking about the ceremony," Magnus urged him on. He was leaning back ever so slightly, a grace in his long limbs and lean body that was uncommonly found in such a tall man. He was the feline here, Alec thought, with his relaxed body, the arrogance with which he held himself, his graceful movements, and his deep gold-green eyes.

"You cut your nondominant hand deeply and bleed onto this ancient, blood-soiled rock in the royal courtyard, and then the Lord Commander seizes the knife and carves a rune that looks like an eye into the back of your swordhand. You repeat the oath and that is it. The day after that, training and patrols start, and you will be working to the bone whilst nursing two wounded hands."

"Sounds very melodramatic," Magnus said, looking at Alec's hand before gently grabbing his right one. The thick scar on the back of it had grown pale overtime, but the shape of the voyance rune was still very much noticeable.

"It is. I never claimed it was not." His hand felt warm where Magnus held it. He reached out to fetch his cup from the mantelpiece to give him something to preoccupy himself with.

"You don't like the wine," Magnus stated with amusement when Alec took a sip. He must have pulled a face at the taste. "It is very good wine, though."

"The quality of the wine is not at fault," Alec replied. "It is solely mine. I have never cared much for it."

"More of an ale man?" When he shook his head, Magnus snorted and looked incredulous. "What then? Beer? Piss? Virgin's tears? Angel's blood? Or, perhaps even worse, tea?"

"I like tea," Alec admitted sheepishly.

"Of course you do." There was affection in Magnus's voice as he scoffed, though, so Alec wasn't too offended. He knew his drinking preferences were a bit uncommon, so a reaction like this wasn't unexpected. "Anyway," Magnus said, letting go of Alec's hand. "You were sixteen and they maimed you for the rest of your life and then worked you to the bone because they consider such a feat the epitome of loyalty? Such a waste of a perfectly good hand."

Alec shrugged. There were worse things than a scarred hand, and they both knew it. "It is an ancient ceremony. It also provides a sense of uniformity."

"It is absolutely ludicrous," Magnus said as if Alec's scarred hand was an offense against him as a person.

"Perhaps." Alec's eyes followed the other as he padded across the room, coming to a halt next to the window. His back was turned to his guest as he peeled the layer of yellow fabric away from the window, allowing the harsh sunlight to seep through. The silk of his robe shimmered magically under the caress of the sun, and the tips of his black hair glowed golden.

Alec rose himself to join him there, his cup once again forgotten on the mantelpiece. The view this room had was quite magnificent. The brothel had been built on the edge of the city of Alicante and on one of the highest points as well. Directly underneath the window lay an ancient square paved with aged cobblestones that had grown smooth through passing time and the many feet that had tramped them, and they gleamed dully in the afternoon sun. Beyond, the city itself loomed.

The Great Sea was visible on the horizon, where it was faded and blended in with the cloudless sky, making it impossible to tell where the sky began and the sea stopped. They couldn't see the castle, which was built on the other side of the brothel, but they could see the maze that was Alicante itself. It was a city built in a fashion that was characteristic to the larger cities that dotted the coastline of Idris, with many canals and arched bridges and houses made of white and yellow stone and fiery brick.

Alleyways extended from the main streets like the many legs of a spider, threading their ways past buildings small and gigantic, trivial and important. To the sides, mostly on the other side of the main river that divided the city, were the less fortunate neighbourhoods, but they were little more than brown specks in the distance, and further ahead also loomed the harbour. Alec also spotted the large spiked towers of the cathedral of the Angel, its marble blazing and glistening in the glare of the sun. The view was not quite as remarkable as the vantage points the towers of the castle provided, but it was still quite breathtaking nonetheless. Alicante was the largest and most impressive city in the entirety of Idris, and it lived up to its reputation.

"Where do you come from?" Alec found himself wondering aloud, and the silence that followed stretched on for such a lengthy period of time that he was certain he had apparently overstepped a boundary, had inquired about such a personal matter that Magnus was not only reluctant to answer but also unwilling. He was about to apologise for intruding when Magnus sighed. It was a deep, weary sigh that did not quite fit the image Alec had built of the man in his head.

"Somewhere far away," Magnus said, and the clouded look in his green eyes did everything to empower his words. "Across the Great Sea, and even further than that. Where exactly I come from hardly matters, though; my exact origin is perhaps a tale that ought to be told in a different place and at a different time. Even so, I can say that my homeland bears preciously little similarities to Alicante. It was warmer there, the kind of warmth that wafts up from the sea and coats the entire city in a certain kind of sluggishness, and flatter as well. Most of the houses were made of either wood or marble, there was no in between."

Magnus fell silent after that, lost in thought. Alec wondered if Magnus felt homesick or nostalgic, or if the memories from that place were so intense and awful that they pulled him under and refused to let him go. Of course, Magnus had told him a bit about himself already, but Alec sensed that there had been much more that Magnus wasn't telling him. It seemed like coaxing any kind of personal information out of him was not going to be easy, perhaps even impossible.

"Do you miss it?"

"Should I?" Magnus asked, his slender fingers releasing the cloth. The light fabric fluttered down, swaying gently in the breeze as it settled back in front of the window again, shielding the city from view. "It has been such a long time since I last saw it. I cannot quite remember what it smelt like, cannot quite remember what it looked like exactly. I have been on the road so frequently and for such prolonged periods of time, I am inclined to say that where I was born is no more my home than anywhere else I have been."

Alec mulled that over, silently. He wondered if he would miss Alicante if he were to leave it behind, and he supposed he would. He had never wandered far; his lady mother and lord father were bound to the castle in Alicante, and as such they had never travelled to visit relatives or acquaintances. His duty at the King's Guard kept him bound to the castle as well, or at least most of the time; during this time of peace and quiet the longest journey he had ever made was probably a hunting trip that lasted a fortnight due to unfavourable weather conditions.

Alicante was his home and the thought of having to leave and not knowing whether he would ever return at all did not sound like a particularly enjoyable prospect.

"Magnus," Alec said when the man once again seemed to be lost in thought, staring into the depths of his cup of wine. His empty cup of wine, Alec noticed, when he craned his neck ever so slightly.

Magnus looked up and seemed to regain his bearings. An easy smile took over his face once again and his eyes were once again keen and filled with a barely-concealed mirth. Magnus noticed many things, and he also seemed to carry a lot of faces with him. He could flicker from one expression to the next in the blink of an eye, and it was hard to tell what he felt or thought at times. Alec wondered whether that had to do with him not knowing Magnus for all that long, or if this was just an enigmatic characteristic of Magnus that would remain even if they did meet more often.

"Alexander," he said, his tongue delicately wrapping around the syllables. He had a way of saying Alec's full name that almost made it unrecognisable; he was used to being called Alec by practically everybody, and his lady mother, who still steadfastly called him by the name he had been given at birth, always barked it with such finality and harshness that it hardly sounded like a sweet name. Yet Magnus managed to make it sound soft and delicate like the most difficult of names pronounced in his mother tongue, whatever that might be.

"Would you mind?" Alec said, gesturing to the bed. Magnus's expression turned curious and puzzled as he gave his consent with a hint of laughter in his voice, and also seemed quite surprised when Alec took Magnus's hand to gently tug him along.

The bed was soft, and the mattress was stuffed with feathers; it dipped under their weight and sighed softly. The green blankets were soft and crisp and expensive, as were the plethora of pillows sprawled about the head end of the bed.

There was a strange sense of intimacy bound to them both sitting on the edge of the large bed, their fingers intertwined loosely and their thighs touching ever so slightly. Magnus had abandoned his wine cup near the window, and his free hand now lay on his lap, his long fingers relaxed.

"I was thinking," Alec started, and when he did not continue immediately, Magnus laughed.

"Well, I noticed. Stop frowning, beautiful. It gives you premature wrinkles - and that would most definitely be a waste."

Alec sputtered for a moment - it surprised him how easy Magnus was with words like those - and ran a hand through his dishevelled black hair, upsetting the smooth strands even further. Magnus ran a thumb over the raised skin on his hand, caressing the eye that bound him to the throne.

"That is not-"

"Stop it, Alexander. You are quite the frowner, we both know it. Do not even think about trying to defend yourself."

"I wasn't going to."

"So you admit you have a rather surly face?"

"By the Angel, you are just like my sister."

"Is that so? I think I should meet with her then, I am certain we would get along admirably. And if her looks are half as good as yours, then I would not mind being seen in her undoubtedly pleasurable company."

"She is prettier," Alec said, fighting the blush threatening to overtake his cheeks, and failing.

"I do not quite believe you," Magnus teased, lifting his other hand to caress Alec's flustered cheek. "You are very precious, after all. All the ladies here think so too."

"Oh," Alec said, not at all capable of handling compliments well. He wasn't used to being told he was handsome or pretty or even worth looking at, and Magnus's blatant support of that particular cause did embarrass and flatter him more than anything else.

"Anyway, you were thinking?" He was, at some point. Now, however, he found it terribly hard to muster a complete sentence without blanking. It took him some calming breaths before he had his act together again - honestly, the effect Magnus had on him was infuriating.

"I was thinking about kissing you, actually." Magnus rose a single eyebrow in surprise, but even though the red on Alec's cheeks was deepening with every passing second, he did not regret having said it. It was the truth, after all. He had been thinking about kissing Magnus and about doing a lot more with him, but he didn't think he could handle all of that. He did not even know how it worked, and he wasn't feeling very adventurous today. Or ever, probably.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah." It was such a juvenile confession to make; he was certain his siblings never discussed matters like this in such a way. He knew for a fact that Jace got plenty of action, and Isabelle had confided in him once or twice back when Lord Meliorn from the Seelie Isles was still courting her in that ambitious manner of his.

"Sometimes, Alexander," Magnus said, the fingers of both his hands intertwining with Alec's own. His fingers were long, slender and gracious and delicate, whereas Alec's were thick and strong and calloused, the hands of a warrior. "It is better to do something instead of to mull it over in your head countless times. You might find the results of your actions to be more pleasurable than your imagination can ever provide you with."

Alec supposed that was Magnus's teasing and complicated way of saying that he had been thinking about it, too. Their hands loosened their grips on one another as Alec pulled his own back, before he guided them up over Magnus's body and to his face where one of them rested on the back of his neck, threading through his black hair, and the other came to a halt on Magnus's chest, then his shoulder, and then his jaw. Magnus's own hands sneaked toward Alec's waist, ghosting over his muscular body and finally resting on his hips. He pulled his legs in underneath him to make the position more comfortable for the both of them, his long limbs as flexible as they were graceful.

It was safe to say that Magnus was indeed very right, Alec thought as their lips locked together. His eyes had fluttered shut and his mouth fell open slightly, something Magnus immediately took advantage of, and it wasn't before long that the kiss was briefly broken. He could feel the other man kiss his cheek and then his jaw, his soft lips tracing Alec's strong jawline as his fingers creeped up his body and a leg was thrown across his lap. Magnus straddled him then, sitting on his thighs, and pulled back.

Alec allowed his eyes to flutter open again, still feeling dazed as if under the influence of a spell, and his lips were graced by a smile as he was greeted by Magnus's smirk. Their lips locked together again, and at some point Alec fell back onto the mattress, but the kiss didn't break and he honestly couldn't care less. He hadn't a clue how long they had been making out when the door was thrown open again, and an annoyed Camille barged into the room. She was met with reluctance from both of them and a whiny Magnus when she announced the king was ready to depart.

 _Let me know what you think! :] Reviews are very much appreciated!_


	3. Golden Purple

_Well. Yeah. I have no explanation hahaha... I am ashamed of myself, though. But here it is! Another chapter! It is actually possible! Thank you so much for the favs/follows and all the reviews! They mean a lot to me and I'm so glad you like this!_

 _Shout-out to the most amazing JelloDVDs, who is not only the most inspiring person ever but who also looked this through for me and made sure it's the best it can be! Thank you so much!_

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _I don't own these wonderful characters, sadly. Instead, they belong to Cassandra Clare. Which is probably for the best._

"So, what is he like?"

Alec tensed up just before he loosed the arrow. The string vibrated slightly as the projectile cut through the air, but the sudden tension in his muscles had affected his aim; the arrow dug into the target, but slightly next to the red dot that indicated the middle. Alec gritted his teeth; his aim was never off. But then again, his sister inquiring after someone she wasn't supposed to know about was not exactly a daily occurrence.

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"I think you know perfectly well who I'm talking about," Isabelle said softly, walking towards him and resting her hand on the engraved wood of his bow. Her fingers curled around the weapon and Alec let her take it, his blue eyes staring at the sandy floor of the archery range in order to avoid her piercing dark brown gaze.

Alec felt sick all of a sudden. Who had told her? Had Jace jokingly mentioned to her that he had been preoccupied the last two times they went to the brothel? Even though Alec wasn't particularly happy with his sister knowing about their regular visits to such a place, Jace never hesitated to boast about the activities he indulged in with the women there. It must have been Jace off-handedly making a retort about his absence that had set her on this trail, he decided.

It definitely wasn't his own incapability to hide something from her at fault.

"Alec?" Her hand brushed his shoulder and brought him back to reality. His breathing was a bit irregular and he felt light-headed. He had never discussed his preference with her, never confided in her about his deficiency. And yet she had been so certain when she had made her inquiry, the pronoun she used standing out like a red flag.

"Yeah?"

"You know you can tell me anything, don't you? I love you, big brother. Nothing you do will ever change that."

"How did you know?"

"You are my brother. I notice these things. I can tell when you're indifferent and when you are interested, and I can especially tell when you seem happier than usual. That smile you have been donning lately really does enhance your features. You should wear it more often."

Magnus had been on Alec's mind more and more often lately; he had almost been like a safe haven Alec's mind could wander off to when he was standing guard or protecting Jace or, even though he was not very keen on admitting this, when he was bathing. And he did not necessarily intend for Magnus to be his dirty little secret. Although it wasn't like there was anything special going on between the two of them, and there would never be a chance for anything of that nature to even blossom. Magnus was just doing his job, and Alec was hopelessly attracted to him.

"His name is Magnus," Alec mumbled cautiously, walking away quickly in order to fetch his arrow. Isabelle's face lit up behind his back; she was surprised yet very pleased that her brother decided to confide in her.

"That sounds exotic," she said. When he got back, his arrow now safely tucked in the quiver slung over his shoulder, she hooked her arm through his and handed him back his longbow. Alec tightened his grip on the wood until his knuckles turned white. Isabelle tugged him toward the extensive gardens, which were well-kept and filled with colourful, sweet-smelling flowers and many herbs with medical purposes. He let her guide him. "What is he like?"

"Magnus? He is quite magical."

"Is he now?" Isabelle asked, a smirk on her face. Alec was relieved when she switched the subject to someone else who she considered to be quite magical as well. She didn't want to pressure him into telling her more than he was comfortable with. Putting Alec under pressure only ever caused him to put up his guard and she didn't want to push her luck; changing the subject to herself was the safest option.

As they strolled through the gardens, Alec could feel gazes burning into them from all sides. It wasn't often that both Lightwood siblings showed up in public together like this; Alec was often too preoccupied with his job and Isabelle spent most of her time in the castle, since their parents preferred to keep her safely confined behind the walls. Isabelle liked to defy that unnecessarily strict rule, however.

Isabelle Lightwood was without a doubt the most beautiful woman of the court, and she was well aware of that. Her black hair was long and cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves, and her intelligent dark brown eyes were rimmed by long, seducing eyelashes. Her lips were painted a bright red that matched the rich colour of her dress. The dress itself had a very tight bodice that was almost scandalously low-cut and was trimmed with lace. The skirts were long and flowed around her body beautifully.

It was therefore not much of a surprise that many young lords strolling through the garden watched them leave with lust-filled eyes. She was unclaimed and of high nobility, a perfect match with a perfect body.

Alec wanted to punch them all.

Their peaceful slow-paced walk around the gardens didn't last too long, however. The interruption came in the form of a very flustered-looking guard.

"Alexander Lightwood, correct?" he asked, pulling on the sorry excuse of a beard that coated his jawline; it was more like a thin layer of fuzz than anything else. When Alec confirmed his assumption the man let out a shaky breath. "The king is looking for you. He requests your presence immediately!"

Alec resisted the urge to grimace at this summons. Usually Jace's sense of urgency didn't extend much further than needing a cure for his boredom or wanting to visit his favourite brothel, and Alec wasn't happy that the time he was spending with his sister would be cut short because of Jace's arrogance and selfishness. But it was not like he could do anything against it; Jace was the monarch and Alec was little more than an ant in comparison. This was something Jace did like to remind him of, if only good-naturedly. It was exactly what they said; heavy is the head that bears the crown.

"I will see to it this instant," Alec promised stiffly. He waited until the guard had disappeared out of his sight before drawing Isabelle closer and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"What is that for?" Isabelle laughed, caught unaware by this sudden display of affection.

"Nothing," Alec said, even though it was, in fact, for everything.

He left Isabelle behind in the gardens; she had already found another man to walk with her even before Alec had the chance to turn away.

He considered taking a longer route just to annoy Jace but decided against it, since the monarch was already annoying enough even if he did not have a valid reason. Alec slung his bow over his shoulder and headed inside the castle, taking the marble steps of the main staircase two at a time.

Jace's chambers were located in the western wing of the second floor, and they dominated most of the available space. There were a few chambers that remained unused; they were destined for the future queen.

The ceilings were high and the hallway was wide, its walls decorated with paintings of various generations of monarchs from House Herondale. They all looked similar, families with kings and children with golden hair and golden eyes, making Jace fit in seamlessly with the majority of them. There were only a few that stood out, mostly children that were born from exotic queens, where the characteristic Herondale gold had been overruled by browns or blacks.

He finally arrived at a double door that had a majestic eagle engraved in the dark wood, and he pushed it open without bothering to knock.

To his surprise, however, the sight that greeted him once the doors gave way was nothing like he was used to seeing. Instead of Jace lying on his bed playing with knifes, the king was actually pacing the length of his room whilst looking absolutely infuriated.

"What is going on?" Alec asked cautiously while he closed the doors behind him.

"Everything!" Jace practically fumed. "Way too much, but no one bothers to tell me anything! Instead they are completely content playing their game of thrones without bothering to include the actual monarch!"

"What did Maryse keep from you?"

"Not just Maryse – Raphael too, and even Hodge. They're acting like I'm some kind of irresponsible child!" Alec had to admit that they might have a point; Jace was not the most responsible monarch, so to speak. "And instead of consulting me they decide to make the decisions for me. Did you know there was some kind of fucking plague going on in the city right now? Because I sure as hell didn't! Instead they trust me with resolving small disputes between stupid peasants, because apparently who decided to eat whose cattle is a lot more important than half my people dying out there! And apparently there's an envoy of the Clave coming, and there's also suspicious activity along the King's Road, but do I know anything about that? No!"

"I am sure they have their reasons for keeping quiet."

Jace ran his hand through his hair, his golden eyes narrowing as he looked at Alec. He was obviously not very pleased by Alec's lack of support. "Of course you are defending them. Is there anything important you have been keeping from me too?"

Alec felt his blood run cold, even though the rational part of his brain told him that Jace wasn't talking about that. Couldn't be talking about that. That would be too low a blow, even for him. "Jace-"

"That's it. I'm going into the city. Call upon the King's Guard and get the horses ready, Alec."

"I do not approve of this-" Alec started, but he was quickly interrupted.

"I know, and I honestly do not care. My people are dying out there!"

Alec wanted to say that it hardly mattered if Jace went anywhere since there wasn't anything Jace would be able to do against a plague anyway. But he didn't bother to voice his disapproval; Jace would not listen to him anyway. He gave a curt nod and then turned around, exiting the room and hurrying down the large corridor, Jace's ancestors judging him silently from their perches on the walls.

–

The city smelt like smoke and waste. The contents of chamber-pots and the by-products of chemical processes had been dumped onto the street, forming a layer of stinky slime on top of the worn cobblestones. The heat of the summer never failed to bring out the worst side of Idris, making the living conditions almost unbearable.

"King of the city of shit," Jace complained, taking his horse back a bit so he could address Alec directly. Alec was riding at Jace's right side, Arrow's head near the golden stallion's flank, with one hand on the pommel of his sword and his blue eyes constantly scanning the streets. Alec didn't respond to Jace's remark.

The ride was, if nothing else, at least cheering Jace up. He wasn't made to sit on a golden throne and play judge. He was a lot more effective and happy when he could go out and explore for himself. Even if that did mean trudging through streets covered in shit. The odour was so strong it nearly made them gag.

Citizens were watching from between cracks in the shutters of their windows, pieces of perfumed cloth pressed against their mouths in an attempt to battle the stench. Others were standing on the sides of the streets, sunk to their ankles in the layer of grime, their eyes emotionless and cold as they watched their king pass. There were children too, holding onto their mothers' skirts, failing to understand what was going on.

And then there were the flies. They were everywhere, buzzing loudly as they feasted on the waste, the noise almost deafening.

It hadn't rained in over a moon cycle, and it was showing.

Jace made quite the sight in his flashy armour made from enamelled gold steel on his large stallion, surrounded by his vicious-looking King's Guard. All of them had donned their black armour, and it gleamed dully under the caress of the afternoon sun. They also wore golden capes made of fine silk that cascaded down their shoulders like golden waterfalls and pooled onto the backs of their horses. Alec was the one who stood out the most, and not just because of his close positioning to the king himself. His helmet was shaped like a wolf's head, its particular shape indicating that he was a Lightwood, the protector that was most feared of all.

Alec himself wasn't too happy about the additional unnecessary finery, but his parents had insisted. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. A reputation his parents had tarnished in the first place, all those years ago.

The closer they got to the cathedral, which was their final destination, the more deserted the streets became. The cathedral loomed over the city like the Angel itself, its high marble towers spiralling upward into the air, reaching for the heavens with greedy, pointy fingers. The cathedral was rumoured to have been erected out of thin air by the Angel, back when he first saved Idris, and the tale was not hard to believe. It was almost ethereal.

The priests and the City Guard had decided to move the makeshift infirmary to the large square in front of the large staircase that led to the enormous front doors of the cathedral, and this is where the lingering smell of smoke originated from; there was a fire burning fiercely near the fountain, and they dragged the bodies of the deceased there to burn before the sickness could spread even further and cause the entire city to perish.

Amongst the bodies of the deadly sick and the barely alive, tall figures in ebony robes sauntered, their hoods pulled forward to hide their faces. The skin on their bare hands and feet was papery thin and the colour of old parchment.

Jace jumped off his horse to approach one of them on foot, and Alec quickly followed.

"Where is brother Zachariah?" he asked one of them, and for a moment it seemed like the question didn't even register in the hooded man's mind. The Silent Brothers usually couldn't speak. Their beliefs caused them to give up the function of one of man's most primary senses, namely sight, and also on the art of speech. Their eyes and mouth were stitched shut with thick black stitches made from horsehair. Their ears were burnt off and offered to the Angel in exchange for wisdom.

"Your Grace," they heard behind them, the voice rough and scratchy. They turned around to face the only exception to the norm, Brother Zachariah. He was a Silent Brother who wasn't silent, and who hadn't stitched his mouth nor his eyes shut, nor had he given up all of his hair and burnt off his ears. There were tattoos on his face, though, swirly lines made with talented hands. The lines reminded Alec of the rune that had been carved into his own hand when he first started his service, and also of the runes that were traditionally engraved into their armour. They were said to contain the power of the Angel, giving them an advantage in battle, but no one really knew if they actually worked.

Maybe they had once, but had ended up losing their divine powers over time and were now nothing more than intricate decorations.

"I want to know what is going on," Jace demanded, his resolve strong.

"As you wish, Your Grace," Brother Zachariah said calmly. His words were like a low whisper that carried on the wind.

It wasn't often that the Silent Brothers left their beloved City of Bones. Only under the most crucial of circumstances could they be provoked to appear in the streets of Alicante, and even then their service was still limited to healing. They were brilliant fighters, but were not inclined to pick up a sword.

Brother Zachariah walked slowly as he led the two of them through the rows of sick people. Alec noted that the remainder of the King's Guard had fanned out and was watching the premises, which he was glad for. Although he doubted anyone would be so foolish as to attack an infirmary, especially one that was under the direct supervision of the brothers, one could never be too cautious.

"It is most curious," Brother Zachariah breathed. "We have found that the illness solidifies their blood. It almost seems to be initiated by the inhalation of poison, but that does not explain its being contagious. A very curious case indeed."

It didn't take too long for Jace's walk around the sick to be done. Alec kept his gaze fixed on the situation around them, scanning the rooftops of the tall buildings that faced the square for potential threats. The people looked horrible, their skin black and dying and dark pus leaking out of their noses and eyes. They suffered in silence, although their faces were contorted with pain. Their eyes were bleeding and their hands were gnarled. The smell they emitted alone was enough to make Alec want to turn around and flee the place. There was something unnatural about it, something he couldn't quite place.

After the emotionless Brother explained the situation, he decided he would at least try to support the infirmary but with both monetary aid and provisions rather than his physical presence.

"Are you happy now?" Alec asked as they mounted their horses again. He was glad to leave the stench and stuffiness of the place behind. Brother Zachariah had ascertained them that the illness that was spreading through the city like wildfire would be completely harmless to the monarch for some reason he didn't elaborate on, which was something he was glad of. The last thing they needed was a monarch ridden with the plague because of his own stupidity and stubbornness.

"Very much so," Jace responded, digging his heels into the ribs of his stallion. The horse nearly jumped forward, eager to finally escape the stench of rot and disease. "I am sure the Brothers were glad to see me too. You know they are picky about granting their aid and they do wish to be acknowledged for their effort."

"They do not seek recognition," Alec said dryly. "That is a treat that solely belongs to you."

"Don't act like I don't have a reason to be arrogant, Alec. If you looked like me you would be too," Jace joked.

"I doubt it. Your level of narcissism is hard to match," Alec grumbled, not appreciating the jest.

The King's Guard regrouped around them, their horses just as skittish as Jace's. There was something peculiar about the infirmary, almost like there was a looming sense of dread. One that wasn't provoked by the unpleasant presence of the Silent Brothers. Instead, it was almost palpable, like a black curtain that covered the entire site and smothered it.

Alec had read about such a sensation before in tales written on ancient papyrus rolls, and all the way back then it was considered to be in close relation to dark magic. But magic didn't exist; that was what they had always been told. So that could impossibly be the cause… or could it be?

They were about halfway back to the castle when something stirred in an alleyway, shaking Alec out of his reverie. Jace was ranting on about some girl he'd spotted at court, which Alec hadn't been particularly interested in, and he complained loudly when Alec slowed Arrow down.

"Alec, seriously. We have been over this before. You are at least supposed to pretend to be interested in what I'm saying!"

"Jace, shut up," Alec replied, steering Arrow out of the formation and dismounting. Arrow looked at him with her big, friendly eyes and waited patiently as Alec turned away. He quickly ducked into the alleyway. He came out not much later, holding a scrawny young man by the back of his tunic.

"Shit. All right. I know this looks bad but I promise you I really wasn't trying to do anything. I swear. On my left hand. Or on my right, really it pretends on your preference I'm not picky at all, I promise you! Just don't kill me please," the man rambled on, and Alec decided he had a very severe dislike for this man already.

Jace seemed amused, and the rest of the guard was just uneasy, quickly scanning their surroundings and probably cursing themselves for not noticing anyone lurking in the shadows. They had stopped their horses and were now standing in the middle of the street, attracting quite a bit of attention from the citizens around them.

"It did not look like you were doing nothing back there," Jace said, looking down at the brown-haired man like he was nothing more than filth. And, to be quite frank, that was exactly what the man was. He looked terrible; his mousy brown hair was caked with sweat, mud and blood, and his face was a mask of pure terror. His clothing was old, torn and gross, and he smelt horrible. His brown eyes were wide with fear and huge in his thin face.

"I told you, I know it looks bad but it really isn't. I just wanted to cross the street but didn't really know if I could since well you know you guys are pretty impo-"

"Please shut up," Alec said, shaking the man by jerking harshly on the back of his tunic.

"Shutting up. Yes. All right. I can do that."

"Simon!" A woman's voice sounded, and Alec inwardly sighed. So the guy was not alone. Brilliant.

A scrawny girl darted out of the alleyway on the opposite side of the street, and this time the rest of the King's Guard did respond properly. She stopped short before the point of a spear, that was strategically placed in her path, could pierce her chest. She looked completely infuriated.

She was a small woman with no real curves to speak of. The combination of the clothing she wore, which was in an identically bad condition as her companion's, she might as well have been a man if not for her long, fiery red hair and the more feminine structure of her face. Her freckled cheeks were stained red with anger.

"Let him go!"

"Don't worry about it, Clary," her friend said weakly. "We're having a great time here. I'm being treated well. Just run now you still can or I might actually piss my pants."

"Don't bother, gentlemen," Jace said, and Alec repressed the urge to roll his eyes when he detected that Jace had cranked up his charm. The girl looked like an underfed weasel. Really, Jace? "I don't think there's anything she can do to us anyway." He had dismounted and was now walking over to the Clary girl, which was a big mistake.

As soon as the guards, hesitantly and disapprovingly, lowered their spears, Clary charged forward and nearly smacked against Jace's chest, swinging her fists in a manner that looked almost comical if it hadn't been for the fierce anger that distorted her face. She was powered on by her fury and either didn't know who Jace was or simply couldn't think straight, because if she'd known the possible consequences of that action she would probably have reconsidered her options.

"He didn't do anything wrong!" the red-haired girl cried.

"He did, actually," Jace said easily, holding her back with one strong arm. "He should know better than to sneak up on an armed guard escorting the king, shouldn't he?"

"The king?" the girl asked, clearly confused. Jace just stared blankly at her for a second before recovering, apparently considering this an interesting turn of events.

"Yes, the king," Jace replied then added smoothly, "So please indulge me, why do you think my guard should release him?" Jace was still blocking the girl's path even though she looked about ready to claw his eyes out.

"I already told you," she said firmly, her voice getting increasingly high-pitched with every word she spoke. Alec winced at the unpleasant sound. "He didn't do anything wrong now let him go!"

"What is your name, fair lady?" Jace asked instead, clearly not interested in following her terribly misplaced orders.

The girl had at least enough common sense to answer Jace's question, and the distraction did seem to calm her down somewhat. Perhaps she thought she could bargain their way out of this? In the meantime, her friend was shivering in Alec's hold, his face a ghostly pale and his brown eyes nearly bulging. He wasn't much of a fighter, that was for sure. Which was quite strange; if he truly was a scrawny cutpurse like his looks made him out to be, he should at least have had some more courage. The way he reacted belonged more to a soft-handed boy of high nobility who had never seen someone get hurt in his life, let alone fought anyone.

Alec resisted the urge to shake him up a little for good measure. He did tighten his hold a bit though, which caused the man to squeak out in terror.

"Clarissa from House Fray. And that is Simon from House Lewis. We are from the north."

"That does explain your abysmal manners," Jace joked, but Clary looked bemused at his effort. "Now, the truth is, I don't think I am going to let you go. I think you are too interesting. I also think it is peculiar that two persons from the north are roaming my streets. Alec, take care of the rat. We're bringing them back to the castle." Jace winked at him, obviously enjoying this portrayal of absolute power he had going on.

Clary looked like someone had just hit her across the face, hard. "I am not coming with you. And he isn't either. Tell your dog to let him go."

"That was not a question," one of the guards said, his stern voice as loud as thunder. "The king gave you a direct order. Failing to obey will lead to immediate execution."

"Now, my good sir, don't you think that punishment is a tad severe?" Jace said with a smile on his face that completely contradicted his claim. "Just look at that beautiful, innocent face. Certainly you would not want to chop that off just because she was disobedient?"

Clary seemed to have calculated her odds and considered her options, and decided that giving into Jace was probably going to be for the best. "Fine. But Simon is coming too."

"That is true. I did include the mouse in my offer, didn't I, Alec?" Jace asked. Alec snorted, pushing Simon toward Arrow.

"Wait. Who are you?" Clary suddenly asked. Jace grabbed her hand, his metal-coated thumb rubbing the back of her hand. It was clear that she wanted to pull her hand away but didn't dare try. Alec was glad that revolutionary spirit of her seemed to have died down somewhat. He didn't feel like having to chase her all the way back to the castle in case she managed to escape. Although her friend did seem a lot less capable than her and it was clear that she was not going to leave him behind.

She had blown her perfectly safe cover for his sake, after all.

"That? That is Alexander Lightwood, head of the King's Guard and my dearest friend. I, on the other hand, am the amazing Jace Herondale, current monarch of Idris in all of its splendid glory." Jace seemed to have forgotten that they had just literally left an infirmary where half of his glorious capital city was quietly wasting away.

Clary looked unimpressed but did allow him to help her onto his horse. Jace expertly mounted his stallion after her, and Alec turned away when Jace started trying to persuade her to hold onto his waist.

"Yeah, I don't think I can do that," Simon replied, his mouth agape.

Alec rolled his eyes and grabbed the man by the back of his tunic and the waistband of his trousers, lifting him off the ground and slinging him over Arrow's back, behind the saddle. The horse swept her tail and turned her head to look at the spectacle, but otherwise didn't budge. After that he mounted his mare himself, patting her gently on the neck.

"Couldn't save anything of that gentleness for me, huh?" Simon said sourly as he watched how tenderly Alec treated Arrow. "Doesn't matter. I quite like being handled like a sack of potatoes." He slowly tried to sit astride Arrow's back instead of hanging over it. He nearly slid down one side of her and quickly grabbed onto Alec's cloak, much to the guard's absolute disgust.

"Are you always this infuriating?" he snapped, urging Arrow back into a walk. Simon screamed out behind him and grabbed onto his shoulder. He had managed to throw his leg over Arrow's back but it hadn't given him enough support to stop himself sliding from side to side with the horse's swaying gait.

Alec glared at Simon over his shoulder when his hands clamped down on him even more feverishly.

"Okay. I get it. No talking. No touching. Just sitting here and try not to fall. Although I suppose you don't really care whether I fall or not. You don't really look like the sensitive guy anyway, no offence. I do have to say I don't have that much experience riding horses – just ask Clary. I am terrible at riding them and-"

"Shut up," Alec said through gritted teeth.

"Right," Simon responded quickly. "No talking. Got it." He had let go of Alec's shoulder but was now clinging to his expensive golden cloak with all of his might. Alec rolled his eyes again and followed Jace's example as he clicked his tongue and Arrow lapsed into a steady canter.

Simon cried out behind him and quickly wrapped his arms around Alec's torso, his filthy nails scratching over the black steel. He buried his face into Alec's cloak until his cheek lay flat against the plate on Alec's back, his breathing irregular and his mouth once again racing.

"I am sorry for the touching. I just really don't like horses. I think I might throw up."

The joy.

Alec would reprimand Jace for this the moment they were alone. What was he even thinking? Dragging some unwilling, filthy, feisty red-haired street rat into the castle together with her even filthier, annoying and very talkative friend? Alec sighed. He knew Hodge and his mother would both hold him responsible for this absurdity, even if it was completely Jace's idea and Alec was not looking forward to their accusations.

 _Let me know what you think of it! Reviews are always very welcome! :D_


	4. Silver Fur

_Well... I tried to update on time... Didn't quite manage it... BUT, I would like you to know that the next chapter has already been written, and it will go up as soon as my beta has edited it. So that's some consolation for this month of nothingness, right? Oh, who am I even kidding..._

 _Thank you guys so much for your reviews, favs & follows. I'm so glad you guys are still around (and yes, Tay, I did update, and yes, this chapter will have Magnus!)! Shout-out to my awesome beta JelloDVDs, who is now going to be my official beta for this monstrosity. Yaay~_

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _Yeah. I kind of do not own. Sad face._

* * *

"Ho there, soldier." Alec's head whipped to the side quickly. He was not surprised to see his sister standing in a shallow alcove at the bottom of the stairs. She was leaning against a dusty statue of a winged woman cradling a goblet of some kind, but she straightened when she saw her brother, a sweet smile curving her lips upward.

Isabelle must have been there for a while, waiting for Alec's tell-tale rushing down the stairs, and she immediately latched onto his arm once he had slowed down. She always did that; holding onto his arm, her fingertips nearly digging into his skin. It was her method of keeping him there, like one would rein in a horse, and to make sure he would not rush away with his long-legged stride.

She made him slow down his pace, too, until they were sauntering. Alec hated sauntering.

"What is it, Izzy?" Alec asked. He loved his sister but this disruption was very inconvenient. He didn't particularly appreciate it when his daily tasks were interrupted.

"Have you seen Maryse yet?" Isabelle asked lightly, but the contempt she felt toward their mother was not lost on Alec. He knew their relationship was strained; he knew how much Isabelle detested the disciplinary role their mother had always taken in their lives. Maryse was a strong woman, but she was not the most loving mother, especially not to her daughter, who she considered to be the epitome of a disappointment. She was nicer to Alec since he always did what she asked which was a quality an authoritative woman like Maryse could appreciate.

She preferred Jace over either of her own children, though, and all that time ago, she had cherished her youngest child, Max, the most. Alec didn't like dwelling on his younger brother.

"No," Alec replied curtly, his shoulders sagging a little. "Nor Hodge. Fortunately. I have not yet figured out what I am supposed to tell them."

"I guess being truthful is unwise here, yes," Isabelle laughed, guiding them up a set of stairs that would lead them in the direction of Isabelle's chambers. It wouldn't surprise Alec if that was indeed their final destination. Isabelle was able to see the humour in this situation, but Alec didn't understand how this could be considered even the slightest bit positive.

Jace was completely besotted with this filthy thing they had plucked off the streets, and by acting so inconsiderately as to invite them into the royal household he had made Alec responsible for whatever destruction they would cause. Alec knew that them screwing something up was just a matter of when and how. They couldn't be trusted; for all they knew they could be two of Raphael's shady Children, or perhaps even assassins from the north.

Alec wiped his sweaty palms on his soft leather breeches, and Isabelle's facial expression morphed into one of concern.

"Alec, it will be fine," she said softly, placing her hand on her brother's arm. "I took care of Clary; she almost looks like nobility now. She should fit in without a problem. As for Simon, well, he can always work in the stables if we can't get him to look more sophisticated."

Alec was very sceptical of the possibility of making Clary blend in with the rest of the court. A girl that scrawny with such fiery hair and such a bad temper would not go unnoticed, no matter how drastic a change Isabelle had implemented.

"I have to tell Maryse and Hodge," Alec replied.

"You do not," Isabelle said firmly. "We can just wait it out for a while."

"If they find out on their own, it will just be worse."

"Potentially," Isabelle replied. "But by then we will all be to blame. They will not be able to take it out on you alone." Though it was a nice gesture her logic was flawed. Alec was Jace's personal guard. It was his duty to keep Jace safe, healthy and alive, and it was not his job to reel in potential murderers and allow them to be in Jace's personal sphere.

As they continued to walk, Isabelle lapsed into a one-sided conversation about how Meliorn had sent her a fire message saying that he would be returning to court soon, and that while the matters he came to address were pressing, he would have plenty of time to court his fair lady. Isabelle looked very pleased with this information, so Alec just made non-committal sounds whenever it seemed appropriate. He did not particularly like the Seelie knight, but Meliorn was a problem he would deal with when the knight arrived at court.

Isabelle led him to her private quarters, which were large and superfluously furnished, with rich tapestries and bright colours. She had a lot of purple fabrics, which was not because she particularly enjoyed the colour but because it was extremely difficult and expensive to dye. His dear sister could be a tad superficial at times.

With his free hand, Alec turned the handle and opened the door to her chambers. He honestly shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when he saw what or rather who she had been hiding in there. A quick scan of the room told Alec there were three persons.

Simon was startled when they entered, his big brown eyes wide as he turned around. He only seemed to curl into himself more when he noticed Alec. Alec was glad the boy was at least intimidated by him; that way he would undoubtedly be less likely to do anything even remotely destructive to Jace.

Clary just raised her chin and looked at the two siblings with something akin to a challenge in her green eyes. Her hair had been washed and the unruly curls had been tamed; the colour was bright and fiery and extremely noticeable. She was wearing a dress that was probably one of Isabelle's older ones, considering the low-cut bodice and the rich silk it was made out of. The fabric was a forest green that suited Clary well, but the dress itself didn't fit her. She was flatter than Isabelle with a much smaller less-curvy figure.

Jace was there too, throwing a knife and then catching it, before repeating the motion. He flashed Alec a lazy, content smile before catching the knife again and then throwing it in his direction. Alec easily plucked the dagger out of the air before it could dig itself into the wall behind him, and he flipped it over in his hand before walking over to Jace and presenting it to him hilt-first.

Alec's disapproval was clearly visible on his face. It was in the tension in his jaws as he gritted his teeth and the curve of his mouth, as well as in his bright blue eyes. Jace wasn't at all affected by his bemusement.

"Fetch, Alec," Jace joked, accepting the dagger and placing it on the table next to the chair he was draped over.

Isabelle walked up from behind them and perched herself on the armrest of the chair Simon was sitting on, and Alec repressed the urge to roll his eyes. Unsurprisingly, his sister was interested in that scrawny rat. He was so unnoticeable that Isabelle wouldn't even have looked at him once, let alone twice, had he not been presented to her on a silver platter. He wondered what was going on in that head of hers, especially with Meliorn returning to court so soon.

Alec kept standing, his body rigid as he squared his usually slouching shoulders. With his height, he towered over anyone in the room even when all of them were standing, but the effect of him staying on his feet whilst the others were sitting was even more empowering.

"We were just discussing heritages," Jace said, his golden eyes flickering over to his guard. "Have you ever heard of House Fray?"

"No," Alec responded curtly. He glared at Jace; he was not at all interested in participating in one of his stupid little games. Jace didn't seem affected by Alec's disapproval, though. Which was nothing new.

"My mother is a Fairchild," Clary said, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"Fairy wings," Alec replied before Jace could pass the comment on to him. "I had enough reason to believe all of the Fairchilds were wiped out during the Shadow Wars." Alec knew the history of all old and influential houses by heart; he had always been very interested in history and heritage, unlike his siblings. He had spent entire days in the library when he was younger, reading countless tales written on thick, aged parchment and brittle papyrus.

"Yeah, that would be because of my mother," Clary answered. "She changed the house to House Fray for our safety and pretended we had all perished." Alec noticed the look Jace was giving him, and he knew the golden king expected him to tell everything he knew about House Fairchild as soon as they were alone. Alec wasn't looking forward to that particular inquiry.

"I'm from House Lewis," Simon said when the silence dragged on. Alec just gave him a blank look for his trouble.

"Oh, I know that one," Jace supplied, making himself a little more comfortable in his padded chair before grabbing his dagger again. "There was some dispute I had to settle not too long ago. Something about a couple lords wanting to force Lady Lewis into remarrying. I let her be; couldn't understand all the hassle. Honestly, what do you even own? Two rocks and a dead tree?"

"Jace!" Isabelle complained, but Alec and Jace just grinned stupidly at each other.

The conversation changed subjects and Alec found himself growing more disinterested by every passing moment. At the very least Isabelle dragging him over here had not been entirely for naught since knowing their houses would make his background checks a lot easier. The knowledge that the redhead originated from the Fairchild house caused him to feel unnerved; there was something about that house that he should be able to remember. Something crucial.

"Alec?" Isabelle's voice shook him out of his reverie. She was looking at him with an expression on her face he knew all too well. She'd thought of something he would disapprove of, something potentially against the law and she expected her brother to participate in whatever plan she had sketched. Alec was less than pleased by this, especially since he did have a very hard time saying no to her.

"What?" he asked, looking around the room to see that everyone had diverted their attention elsewhere. Jace was throwing and catching his dagger again, oddly silent for once. Simon had scooted as far away from Isabelle, who was still sitting on the arm of his chair, as the confined space would allow, and had directed his gaze to the other side of the room, where a large engraved mahogany closet was located. Clary had cast her gaze down to her lap and was fidgeting with the lace trimmings on her sleeves. This was as private a conversation as this situation would allow, and Alec knew that he most definitely was not going to like what she expected of him.

"You have to teach Clary and Simon how to fight." It wasn't a question, nor a request; it was a command. His sister had thought of this, and she liked to get what she wanted. She was more than willing to fight for it too.

"No," Alec replied firmly.

"Why not?" Isabelle asked, turning her chin up defiantly. "You trained me." That was true; Alec had taught Izzy, a long time ago. Isabelle had been very persistent and back when they had been young. Alec didn't necessarily regret that decision, but he also didn't want to repeat the mistake. In a kingdom such as Idris, even with Jace's influence, it wasn't exactly acceptable for a woman to be able to fight. Even so, Isabelle was talented with dagger and whip, and could best most men in hand-to-hand combat. She was fierce and determined, and while Alec was still better than her, she was a splendid fighter.

"That is different," Alec defended lamely, knowing that it wouldn't matter what he said. His sister wasn't interested in hearing out his objections; she just wanted him to give in. "You're family."

"I cannot see the point."

"Isabelle, we do not know anything about these two! We do not know their intentions nor their motives. We do not know anything about their pasts and it is extremely unwise to give them skills they can use against us!" Alec replied, and this did cause a reaction in Jace.

"I do believe it is my call whether or not to train them," the king said, the smile on his face telling Alec that he was enjoying this situation much more than he should be. "Since I am a very lenient king, however, I will give this beautiful lady a choice. Do you want to learn how to fight? If not, I am more than happy to let you stay in my chambers. I am certain we can find another pastime to keep you preoccupied with."

Clary tensed up under his gaze, knowing exactly what he was implying. He deliberately neglected the brown-haired guy. Alec knew Jace thought the man to be little more than a pet for Clary, something Jace had allowed her to keep because it would pacify her. Alec himself wanted to avert his eyes from the situation; the look Jace was giving the redhead made him sick.

The petite woman raised her chin, a look of determination on her freckled face.

"Yes, I do. I want to learn how to fight," she said, and Isabelle's grin morphed into one of triumph.

"If Izzy can fight," Jace said as he rolled his head over the back of his chair, his golden hair rubbing against the deep red velvet of the padded back, turning his gaze back to the guard standing slightly behind him. "Then Clary can fight. Alec, see to it that she is trained."

Alec broke his gaze away from Jace's golden one, pressing his lips together into a thin line. He did not approve of having to teach someone he didn't trust how to fight. He couldn't see why Jace and Isabelle were so intent on seeing her trained in combat in the first place; the likelihood of her needing it at some point was close to naught. He didn't voice his doubts or demonstrations, however, instead opting to remain silent. Even if he had wanted to complain, it was shortly after Jace had turned away from him that a loud knock sounded on the double doors, disrupting their conversation.

Alec walked over to the door and opened it, surprised to see their mentor there. Apparently the confrontation with Hodge was going to happen much sooner than any of them had wanted it to.

"Alec," Hodge said, nodding at him. He was a fair and just man, with a crooked nose, dark hair that was streaked with silver, and a big scar on the right side of his face. His pet raven sat perched on his shoulder; its eyes gleamed brightly as it cocked its head from side to side. "I think I am safe to assume the King is present?"

"Hodge," Jace said from behind Alec, and Alec stepped out of the way to open up the entrance to the room. Hodge's clear eyes immediately found the two strangers currently accompanying the king, and his eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"A pleasure indeed," Hodge mentioned, the meaning of his words not lost on anyone present. "I actually came to summon you to the council room. Raphael has arrived, and he has pressing matters he wishes to discuss with you."

"It cannot wait?" Jace asked, looking at Clary with a gaze that almost seemed to contain some sort of sickish longing. Jace didn't seem too intent on keeping his obvious obsession with Clary under wraps, much to Alec's displeasure.

"No," Hodge said, stating the obvious. "Raphael would not appreciate being left waiting." Jace conceded, stepping out of the room. It wasn't until he noticed that Alec made no attempt to follow him that he turned around and frowned at his guard.

"What are you waiting for, Alec? Raphael is not going to annoy himself. Or, well, he actually is going to. Just like he will also annoy me. Share my burden."

Alec rolled his eyes and stepped out of the room, following Jace. When the door closed behind them, Hodge turned to them, a puzzled yet intrigued look on his face. "For all of our sakes, I will pretend I did not just see that. Although, just a friendly piece of advice, come up with a good excuse sometime soon."

Raphael was, as promised, waiting in the council room. He was standing near the window, just enough to the side so the sunlight could not touch him. He was dressed in black velvet and leather, and he did not bother to recognise the arrival of his king when the small entourage stepped into the room. Hodge stood back, closing the door behind them. Alec took up his position near the door, his back rigid and his mind weighing options.

"Raphael," Jace said. He was never one for unnecessary small talk with people he did not particularly appreciate. Raphael liked to toy with his subjects, almost like how a cat toyed with its prey, before quickly losing interest and discarding it in a place for the owner to see. That was how the Night Children worked sometimes, too. Mangled bodies would be found in the middle of busy streets, or on the corners of alleyways, their deaths undetermined but their inflicter not at all a mystery.

With his youthful face, pale skin and aged, wise black eyes Raphael was the spokesperson of the Children of the Night, an organisation that specialised in spying and assassinating. Their presence was everywhere, and instead of extinguishing them, Jace had opted to include Raphael in his circle of councilmen, giving him a voice and a place to deposit the intelligence he accumulated.

The oddly youthful man played with a small golden cross that hung from a thin chain around his neck as he turned, his dark eyes like soulless pools of emptiness. "My king," he said, his voice so monotonous it was almost mocking. "It's been a while. Fortunately."

"Why are you here?" Jace asked, his hands clasped behind his back and the annoyance clearly showed in his stance and in the tension of his muscles. Alec did not feel particularly sorry for him.

"No more pleasantries, I take it, then? Such a shame." Raphael's facial expression showed nothing; he didn't even bother to plaster a fake smile onto his features, instead he just looked down on his king with a vague hint of contempt.

"Listen, if you have nothing useful to say..." Jace started.

"I do have a piece of information that concerns the welfare of the kingdom, yes. I also have received some very classified intelligence from an extremely reliable source. I think that I might have to prioritise it."

Alec felt like someone had just slapped him in his face. Surely Raphael couldn't already know about that, could he? His fear was quickly confirmed, however, when Jace inquired after Raphael's intention and the man, his lips curling up into a predatory and humourless smile, answered him earnestly.

"Whispers have told me that a certain girl by the name of Clarissa from House Fairchild has recently arrived at court… Such an interesting concept; the daughter of a traitor and an exile who is in the direct presence of royalty? Very curious."

"What if your intelligence is false?" Jace asked calmly.

"I can assure you it is not," Raphael replied pleasantly.

"What do you want?" Jace's tone morphed into one of annoyance.

"Nothing, of course." Raphael never wanted nothing, and even though his facial expression nor his body language gave nothing away, they had known him for long enough now to understand how exactly Raphael worked.

"I do not believe you," Jace said. "You are like a spider, resting in its web."

"How wise of you. Although I must admit I am offended – I am nothing like a spider. The Children of the Night prefer to call themselves the predators of the night, the monsters lurking in the shadows. Spiders are too idle; all they do is sit and wait. We, however, hunt. Now that we have solved this misunderstanding, will you please follow me."

They did, albeit begrudgingly, follow Raphael to a side door that led to a small room adjoining the council chamber. The moment the door opened, the smell of decay assaulted their senses, and Jace nearly gagged. Alec steeled himself, although the stench made him feel squeamish and caused unpleasant memories to resurface.

"What is this?" Jace asked, disgusted.

"A very interesting phenomenon," Hodge said, who had come up behind them and urged them to enter the small side chamber. Raphael stood back, hovering in the doorway. He didn't look disgusted or even slightly disturbed by the scene in front of him.

"Fuck," Jace cursed, his eyes large as he gazed at the bodies that had been deposited on the floor.

It was a horse, or, well, it had once been a horse, anyway; something had clawed its front legs off below the kneecaps and tore into the shoulder and ribcage. The flesh around the wounds was black and rotten, and black liquid had rushed out of the gashes and stained the horse's copper coat with reeking darkness.

Worse, even, was the crumpled form that must at some point have been a man. Most of the body had been torn apart, and it had become gnarled and rotten throughout the process.

"It is a messenger," Hodge announced. "They left around noon. It was Raphael who first received word of the accident, if you can even call it that. We do not know what attacked them; we do know that whatever inflicted these wounds was so poisonous that it caused the flesh to decompose." He touched the assaulted shoulder of the horse to emphasise his point. The skin relented under his touch as if there was no bone left beneath it, and a slow trickle of black dirt escaped from the confinements of the body.

"Do we have a guess?" Jace asked, his expression bewildered.

"Demons," Raphael said calmly.

* * *

Arrow snorted happily, glad to be able to stretch her long limbs. Alec ran his fingers through her thick black mane, enjoying the scenery around them. It was getting late; the sun was starting to set and a beautiful blend of orange, pink and purple filled the sky above the Narrow Sea, reaching out with greedy fingers. It had been yet another sweltering hot summer day, and despite the late hour it was still clammy and not exactly pleasant outside. Arrow's silver coat gleamed with a slight sheen of sweat.

The interwoven canopy of the forest, where maple and pine trees alike entangled their branches, provided them with shelter from the harsh sunlight, and the mossy ground was freckled with specks of brightness where the light managed to filter through. The forest smelt sweet and was mostly silent, aside from Arrow's breathing, the patter of her hooves and the creaking and sighing of the leather saddle. Every now and then the shrubbery would move as an animal fled from their approaching presence, but if Alec had been out to hunt they wouldn't have been fast enough. He was renowned for his skill with bow and arrow for good reason.

Alec had decided to take Arrow out for a ride after their rendezvous with Raphael and Hodge, but not even the thundering of Arrow's hooves as she galloped through the forest was enough to drown out the weird feeling that had settled in his stomach. The way Raphael had so nonchalantly pronounced demons to be the cause of the mysterious deaths had caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand erect.

Was this a confirmation of Alec's own assumptions earlier that week, when they had gone to the infirmary and seen the scenery at the foot of the cathedral? That there was something bigger than themselves at play here? What did it even mean if the cause of that disease was indeed supernatural? If the cause of the death of the messenger and his mount was indeed a demon attack?

Arrow tugged gently on her reins, shaking Alec out of his reverie as he allowed the soft leather to slip through his gloved fingertips. She took the opportunity to stretch her elegant neck, her pace now an easy canter.

It wasn't long before Alec steered clear of the forest and changed direction to the city instead. It lay below him like a map, stretching across the area and expanding to the large harbour built upon the unruly shore of the sea. It wasn't that the sea treated them unkindly, but it was renowned for its temper nonetheless. Storms were not uncommon, and sailing it was not a task for the inexperienced.

He could see the Stele, a river that was so straight and clear it was hard to believe its creation had been nature's work, as it cut Alicante in half and met up with the sea, its fresh water enriching the fouler salty water. The cathedral of the Angel stood in the middle of the city, its white, spiralling towers dominating the view. Its grandeur was nothing but an illusion; Alec was well aware of the fact that at the foot of that building, hundreds of people lay dying.

"Ho, Arrow," he said, making his horse go slower as they ventured into the streets, her iron-shod hooves clacking on the cobblestones as she lapsed into a steady walk. The streets were mostly empty, and fortunately the stench they had encountered during their trek into the city two days prior wasn't as prominent here, although that was mostly because this area of the city was not as densely populated.

The brothel was located on the very outskirts of the city; its close proximity to the castle was both a curse and a blessing. It had after all encouraged Jace's weekly visits since travelling to and fro the place was easily achieved without attracting too much attention. Now, it was more of a blessing, since it gave Alec less time to rethink and regret his decision.

Even though it was not uncommon for him to mull over the events of the day by taking his precious horse out for a ride, he still did not quite understand why he had steered Arrow in this particular direction. Why did he feel the need to go see Magnus when his life was getting turned upside down? Since when had Magnus become such a prominent factor in his life?

He dismounted Arrow when they arrived at the small stable complex nestled neatly between two buildings on the opposite side of the square, handing her over to an eager stable boy. The mare followed the child easily, her black tail swishing as she chased flies away. Alec watched her go with a sense of finality, knowing that there was no turning back now. He sighed and adjusted his bow and quiver.

Alec turned around, crossed the small square and its dried-up fountain and ducked into the brothel. The exotic scent that was always present there immediately overwhelmed his senses, but he was not as unnerved by it as usual. Now, the scent promised that he would meet up with Magnus, which was far from unpleasant and indeed very exciting.

He entered the common room, not quite sure of himself. He had never ventured into the brothel without Jace before. He briefly wondered if he had to go to the room where Jace was usually at in order to find Magnus, but his uncertainties quickly faded when his eyes scanned the room and he saw Magnus was already there.

Granted, the beautiful man was leaning against the wall, his long body stretched out elegantly and his hip cocked slightly, while talking to a woman Alec had never seen around before. He wondered if it was one of Magnus's clients, and the thought of that being a possibility caused his stomach to lurch with an emotion that was dangerously close to jealousy. Sure, he shouldn't be too surprised or offended that Magnus saw other people than him – it was his job, after all – but that didn't make it any easier to digest.

Alec was considered turning around, fetching Arrow and riding off to the middle of nowhere when Magnus's gaze shifted to the side and locked with Alec's. His facial expression softened, almost morphing into one of fondness, before he excused himself, pushed himself off the wall and made his way over to Alec.

"Alexander," he purred when he was close enough, the silk of his robe rustling softly as he lifted his hands to clasp Alec's left one between them. He looked down on the archer, his golden-green eyes so bright and mesmerising they were almost inhuman. "It has been too long. Literally." That was true; the day Jace and he were supposed to make their visit to the brothel had come and gone, and Alec felt stupid for coming here on a whim. It could have been very much possible that he had found Magnus unavailable, or otherwise in a very compromising position. He didn't know which of those situations would be worse.

"Magnus," Alec replied. There was more that he wanted to say, but the words died on his lips as Magnus kissed his gloved hand before prying the leather garment off so he could kiss and lick the back of Alec's hand properly. He looked up at Alec from underneath his eyelashes as he did so, and Alec noticed the shimmer of glitter that had been applied to his eyelids, the green colour fitting his silk clothes and making his beautiful eyes even more breathtaking.

"I am glad you came," Magnus said, eradicating Alec's doubts, before lacing their fingers together and pulling him in the direction of the corridor.

"Were you not talking to someone?" Alec asked. Despite his confusion he followed Magnus willingly.

"She is not important," Magnus responded. "I am sure the fair lady does not mind." He waved at the woman in passing, but she just rolled her eyes and went back to her drink, a small smile on her face.

Magnus led Alec up the stairs and eventually into his room. It looked mostly the same as the time before; there was a small, yet completely unnecessary, fire blazing in the hearth, ornaments adorned the walls and the main colour that dominated the chambers was green, although a little bit of yellow and black made their appearances as well. Alec had preciously little time to appreciate the furnishings, however, he had just placed his bow and quiver against the mantelpiece when Magnus pinned him against the wall, the door just closing behind them.

Alec gasped as he felt Magnus's body against his, surprised by the straight-forwardness Magnus was exhibiting. He had never been this enthusiastic before, although it was not hard to comprehend what had elicited the change in behaviour. Alec had initiated that he was comfortable with going a step further during their previous visit, after all. Magnus took advantage of Alec's breathlessness by capturing his lips and kissing him.

"Magnus," Alec breathed when they broke the kiss. His legs felt unsteady and his entire body was alive with feelings he had never experienced before. Magnus made him feel hot and cold at the same time, and it was a sensation that was as strange as it was addictive. He was growing almost uncomfortably hot, though; and he could feel another part of him coming alive.

"I'm sorry, Alexander. I just cannot resist," Magnus said, not looking apologetic at all. He ran his hands down Alec's body and Alec rested the back of his head against the wall, exposing his neck completely as he tried to calm down before this would lead him to a very embarrassing situation. Magnus's lips and tongue immediately attacked the newly-exposed skin of Alec's throat.

"I don't think-" Alec started, but Magnus quickly ended whatever excuse was stumbling over the archer's lips by covering them with his own.

"You have been thinking too much," he said when he pulled away, his green eyes studying Alec's face intently. "You look tired. Worrying so much is bad for your skin, Alexander." A smirk formed on Magnus's lips as he moved in close again, his breath ghosting over Alec's ear, causing him to shiver. "Let me take those worries away."

Alec didn't know how exactly it happened or how much time had passed, but all of a sudden he found himself lying on his back on the bed, Magnus on top of him, their bare chests stuck together as they kissed and touched each other and simply felt. Magnus's hands were on his hips, his fingers sliding slowly underneath his breeches to explore the skin underneath. He was gentle and moved slowly, almost as if he was prepared to retreat as soon as his advances caused Alec to panic or startle.

Alec's mind wasn't really working anymore; all he could think about was Magnus lying on top of him, and the effect this was having on his body as every single sense he had stood at attention. Magnus pulled back eventually, his eyes studying the exposed skin of Alec's torso intently.

"What is this?" he asked, his fingers gently touching the thick black lines drawn into the skin of the junction between his stomach and his hip.

"A rune," Alec answered after he had craned his neck to see what exactly Magnus was talking about. His mind wasn't functional enough to comprehend what exactly Magnus meant without the visual support. "It's like a tattoo."

"Why?" Magnus murmured, moving down to place a gentle kiss against the inked skin.

"It binds me to Jace."

"Did the one on your hand not bind you to Jace?"

"No, that ties me to the throne. This one, this one ties me directly to Jace." Magnus hummed and dipped his fingers beneath Alec's pants, his fingertips brushing over the sensitive flesh there. Alec gasped. "Magnus, it's getting late."

"The weather is bad," Magnus reasoned, and it was true; sometime during their make out session it had started to storm, and even though the heavy rainfall was definitely needed after all those weeks of heat and drought, it was not the most favourable weather to ride a distance in.

At some point a gust of wind had entered the room and the shutters had closed quietly, shutting out the loud howling from outside. Magnus lifted himself up a little so he could gaze into Alec's eyes, his fingers brushing him still. "Stay." Alec answered by wrapping his arms around Magnus's shoulders, closing the gap between their lips, kissing Magnus hungrily again.

 _Ahhh, is it finally getting steamy? Four chapters into a brothel AU and there's finally some action... Quite the accomplishment, I guess! Let me know what you think! :] Reviews are very much appreciated!_


	5. Brown Wool

_Like promised... here is the next chapter! Look at me, updating within half a week. I feel so proud. Thank you guys so much for the reviews on last chapter. I love reading what you think!_

 _Shout-out to my amazing beta JelloDVDs! She's a lovely person who is absolutely wonderful and who leaves the most amazing comments on everything and go over to her profile to give her some love, please. Seriously. She deserves it._

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _Oh come on people... Of course I don't own the characters. Probably for the best, too. Let's be honest._

The night was still young when Alec stirred suddenly, the silk sheets rustling as he pushed himself up in bed and stared at the darkness of the wall opposite him. It took him the duration of a few shallow breaths to figure out where he was. The arm that had been resting over his chest and that had now slid down to wrap around his waist definitely helped refresh his memory. He felt nails dig into his skin as the fingers gripped onto his hipbone, a clear indication that Alec's movement had woken Magnus up. Alec took a deep breath and closed his eyes, remembering what had happened the evening before. He had allowed himself to give in to Magnus, and he most definitely didn't regret any of what had occurred afterwards.

Magnus was graceful and lazy much like a feline as he stretched himself out over the bed. His fingertips travelled a path from Alec's hip, his nails brushing over the flesh playfully, to the rune that covered the skin at the junction between his hip and his pelvis. Magnus traced the inked skin there, only putting the slightest pressure into his touch. The structure of the rune-covered skin seemed to fascinate him; it had been his point of focus earlier as well. It was almost like Magnus knew exactly where Alec's sudden unrest originated from.

"Alexander?" Magnus breathed beside him, curling himself around Alec's sitting body as if that would keep Alec from leaving. His hair tickled the underside of Alec's back. Alec fought the blush that crept over his cheeks as he remembered that both of them were completely naked. They hadn't done much talking, which was quite contradictory to their previous two encounters. Instead, they had ventured to less explored territory.

"I have to go," Alec said, gently removing Magnus's hand. Magnus took this as an opportunity to intertwine their fingers. His long fingers were smooth like silk in comparison to Alec's scarred, calloused hands. Alec stared at their hands, fitting so perfectly together, and he thought back to the events from before and how reserved he had been, how scared he had been to hurt Magnus with the tough, leathery skin that stretched over his palms. It had taken quite a while before Magnus had managed to convince him otherwise. Alec repressed a moan as he recalled Magnus's interpretation of positive reinforcement.

"It's dark," Magnus reasoned, pushing himself up to a seating position as well. Their naked thighs brushed against each other, and Alec let out a shaking breath when Magnus wedged one of his legs between both of his own. "You can stay until dawn, can you not? I'm quite certain no one will miss you between then and now. No one but me, that is." By the end of his sentence, his voice had turned into more of a purr than anything else.

Alec's body wanted nothing more than to give in and lie back down; to melt into the feathery mattress and let Magnus do unthinkable things to him like the evening before, but there was a sense of oddness, a mild tickling in the back of his mind that alarmed him something was amiss. A pulling in his stomach that told him he had to get back to the castle.

Magnus pressed his lips against Alec's neck and gently nipped on the skin there, his finger tips now tracing a swirling path up and down Alec's torso, starting at the left side of his throat where his pulse thundered against his fingers in response to his touch and then slowly trailing downward, going further and further south still.

"Magnus..." Alec protested weakly, trying to remind Magnus of his objective, which prompted Magnus to chuckle in response.

"I will let you go, if you insist," Magnus promised, although his words were contradicted by his actions as he lifted himself on top of Alec's thighs, their bare flesh hot against each other. "Soon." His voice was low and his green eyes were darkened with desire as he closed every gap that was between them.

* * *

Arrow was slumbering when Alec entered the small stable complex sometime later. Her grey coat gleamed warmly under the candle light, and Alec could barely contain a smile when he saw her black mane had been tamed into a long braid that ran along the curve of her elegant neck. The stable boys of the brothel had always liked his horse, and this was not the first time they had treated her like royalty.

When he shifted the bolt out of place and forced open the stable door, she looked up, her brown eyes filled with trust as she regarded her visitor. She snorted softly and pressed her velvety lips against Alec's cheek, nuzzling her upper lip against his skin. It was then that Alec heard straw rustling somewhere deeper in the stables, and it wasn't long before a sleepy stable boy, who must have been resting in the pile of straw and hay further down the corridor, appeared with an old mutt close on his heels.

He recognised Alec and asked if he needed any help, but Alec quickly waved him away. The boy sighed in relief and then walked back to where he had come from, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The mutt stayed behind a short while longer, but drifted away soon, dragging one of its hind legs along, the nails scratching across the stone floor.

Alec brushed Arrow's gleaming coat briefly before he retrieved the heavy leather saddle from where the stable boys had stored it. On the way back, he stole an apple from a small pile that had been dumped onto a chair, which he offered to Arrow before he saddled her. She accepted the treat with decadency, her lips brushing against Alec's palm as she snatched it from his hand.

Before long they were on their way, Arrow's iron-shod hooves clattering against the cobblestones, the loud noise echoing almost hauntingly through the deserted streets. The city was asleep and the streets were wet and slippery. The storm from earlier had washed away most of the dirt that had cluttered in the streets, although the bad weather that had swept over the city earlier that night nearly seemed to be some kind of illusion. Now, the sky was clear and the moon nearly full, distributing her silvery light like the gentle, caressing touch of a caring mother over the slumbering city. It gave Alec just enough light to navigate by as they cleared the city.

The night was cold, almost unpleasantly and, if he could say that much, unnaturally so, and equally as silent. As Alec urged Arrow into a light canter in the direction of the tree line, he noticed the complete absence of any kind of noise an animal would make. Instead, the unsettling tranquillity of the night wrapped around Arrow and him like a smothering blanket, setting both of them on edge. Something was indeed amiss, that much was certain.

Alec didn't dare venture into the forest, not quite sure where exactly the unpleasant sensation that was brooding in his stomach was originating from, and not willing to take the risk. Even without this uncanny atmosphere making him uneasy, there were enough predators ready to pounce on them in the forest at night. Instead, he clacked his tongue and allowed Arrow to lapse into a more hurried gallop, keeping her a safe distance away from the shrubbery and the intertwined canopy of the forest. Arrow obliged quickly, her nervousness clearly noticeable in the flaring of her nostrils and in the rapid turning of her ears in every direction.

Alec thought about Magnus, about his warmth and his wonderful body and his soothing voice, and wondered why exactly he had felt the need to leave the protection and pleasantness of Magnus for the coldness of the night. Magnus had been right; what would it have mattered if he had stayed until dawn and then ridden back? What did he gain by travelling in the dead of the night?

He felt it before he saw it, and perhaps that was why he yanked on the right rein and forced Arrow to swerve off the path. The mare threw up her head, unused to and startled by such unthoughtful treatment, but still she obeyed, her body curving as she made a sharp turn to the right.

Claws dripping with black liquid and a set of jaws larger than a wolf's snapped at the place where Arrow's flank had just been, and his horse whinnied in terror as she jumped and danced to the side, her eyes rolling.

Alec felt an inexplicable sense of calmness wash over him as he ran his fingers over Arrow's neck, soothing the spooked animal. Their pursuer had dragged itself back into the safety of the shadows, and Alec used this interval to steer Arrow back in the direction of the castle and quickly ready his bow. While he was nocking the arrow, he could feel the presence approaching again. He lifted his bow and steadied his aim, his body accustomed to shooting from horseback and his mind expertly accommodating his angle with the steady movements of his horse's gait.

It pounced at them from the shadows again, and in any other situation the hideousness of the monster that was clearly visible as the moonlight caught its moving shape, would have caused Alec to freeze up but at this instant his mind was enhanced with an odd clarity. Its mouth was like that of an octopus; a beak that was wretched open to show rows of dripping, sharp teeth and it was surrounded by eight claws, sticky with black goo, that were spread wide, the ends adorned with sharp blades. The body of the thing resembled that of a wolf, although hideous additional limbs grew out of the anomaly at the weirdest places, gleaming wetly and dripping black slime as it moved.

Alec waited until the monstrosity was close enough, its claws spread in preparation for its assault. It was once again going for Arrow's hind legs, but this time his horse didn't dance away from the approaching form, but stood still like a drawn bowstring instead, the tension in her muscles making her body as hard as a rock.

Alec couldn't explain why he waited so long to release his arrow, but it was almost like his muscles were frozen until the talons were close enough to tear at his horse's flesh, or to even cut through his very own flesh, and then he let the arrow fly.

The air whistled only briefly before the arrow dug itself into the gaping beak, the engraved shaft burning a bright white as it bore through the insides of the creature and caused black liquid to weep out of its every pore. Some of it splattered onto Arrow, causing the horse to dance away from the creature as it crumpled onto the ground. Certain that the creature would now be physically incapable of attacking him, Alec dismounted his horse and crouched near the crumpled figure, bow still in hand. He reached out to inspect it, but just before his gloved fingertips touched the slimy flesh, the thing decomposed into a pool of black that quickly seeped into the ground, eradicating any evidence that it had existed in the first place. Any evidence, aside from the arrow that was. Alec frowned as he collected the arrow from where it lay on the floor.

The arrowhead had disappeared; whatever was in that thing had managed to digest the iron the head was made of. Despite this, the shaft was still perfectly intact. It glowed a soft white through the black fluid from the creature. Alec tore off a piece of his cloak and wrapped it around the remnants of the arrow, before putting it with the others in his quiver.

A shiver ran down Alec's spine as he remembered Raphael's reasoning from the day before. Demons, he had said. He thought back to the scrolls and thick tomes he had read when he was younger, and he remembered the vivid description that had been given of the many creatures that roamed the shadows. While he hadn't been able to get the clearest look of the anomaly with the moon as his only source of light, it had been clear what species it had belonged to.

 _Demons never hunt alone_.

The thought caused him to rise quickly and sling his bow over his shoulder. After a brief inspections of his surroundings to make sure there were no other unwelcome visitors lurking in the shadows, he mounted his mare again. The horse was on edge and seemed as glad as he was to steer clear of the scenery and everything that had just transpired.

* * *

The things he had done with Magnus seemed to have happened on another day, perhaps even in another time, when Alec was on his way to inform Hodge with the events of that morning. He had washed Arrow's leg off, before making sure the animal had no other injuries. The black fluid that had splattered onto her had left little holes in her coat and burnt into her skin. He had looked at the wounds together with the stable master, who had come down to find the source of the sudden calamity when Alec and Arrow's arrival had caused the other horses to become restless. The smell that clung to them must have alarmed the other horses, and it had taken the master of horse quite a while before he managed to calm them down sufficiently.

The wounds didn't seem prone to infection, but the stable master promised him that he would tell one of his boys to pay close attention to Arrow for the days to come. Alec had then removed himself from the stable complex and entered the castle through the kitchens. He shrugged his quiver off and retrieved the arrow shaft. The fluid had eaten through the cloth on some places. The coarse wool was no match for the acidic ichor.

The grey cat that inhabited the kitchens, Church, frowned at Alec when he passed by. It was an ugly cat, with a pinched face that almost looked as if someone had placed a hand on the animal's head and pressed its nose in. It wasn't very friendly either, although it was amazing at catching mice and seemed to know every nook and cranny this castle, including its many secret passageways, had to offer. This time when Alec passed, however, the cat's small nostrils fluttered as it sniffed the air, and it almost seemed intrigued by the smell, as if it knew what it was from. Alec frowned and offered the cloth to Church, whose watery eyes were now filled with a feral shimmer. Alec smiled at the animal and scratched it on the top of the head, promising silently to give it some cheese from the pantry next time.

He felt odd, the thrill from the encounter with what he assumed was a demon causing his mind to be enhanced with an odd clarity. Which was probably what reminded him that going to Hodge right this instance was not a good idea. What was he supposed to say? How could he possibly explain his encounter with this creature? What reasoning could he give for him being out so early in the night? He could hardly tell the truth, and he couldn't think of another explanation to validate his whereabouts.

Alec changed his course and headed to his own chambers instead, his mind thumbing through the possibilities and possible excuses. He went into his room and closed the door behind him. He hung his bow on the designated hooks on the wall and put his quiver down next to the heavy chest, before locking the door and turning to his fireplace, his fingers tightening around the arrow shaft. He pushed on one of the stones of the mantelpiece, his eyes fluttering closed until he could feel the gust of cold air that had been trapped behind the wall. When he turned around, the wall next to his bed had shifted away without so much as making a sound, and instead a dark, narrow corridor was revealed. Alec entered the secret passage and toggled the switch hidden inside another stone to cause the wall to slide back into place again, the wind that originated from the movement ruffling his hair.

He knew the way to his destination by heart, having walked it countless times before. Therefore, he did not need the guidance of a candle, or from any other source of light. It had been a while since he had last made this particular trek, however, and he kept one of his arms above his head to get rid of the spider webs before they plastered themselves all over his face.

When he arrived, he removed the sticky threads from his arm before thumping on the wall. After a few breaths, he toggled it to slide away. This passage was trickier than the one in his own room, and he faced some difficulties as he exited the passage sideways.

Isabelle had just gotten out of bed and was lighting several candles when he entered the room, her face etched with worry. She looked young in her nightclothes, younger and more innocent than any of them had been for a long while. The Lightwood siblings had matured fast; their circumstances nor their nurture had ever allowed them to be irresponsible or childlike for too long. Sometimes, Alec yearned for those days of childish mischief, where they chased each other through the gardens of The Institute, the castle that guarded the intertwining of the rivers Stele and Seraph, which met further inland. The keep had belonged to House Lightwood ever since the initial establishment of Idris. Now, however, it had been trusted to some lord for safekeeping, for the Lightwood reputation had become irreparably tainted.

Those days dated back to before the Shadow Trials. Jace hadn't been in their family yet, Max had yet to be conceived, and the Lightwood influence at court had been limited to two trips every summer and a lot of mail traffic. Everything had changed drastically in a very brief amount of time, and his blurry memories from The Institute often seemed like little more than figments of his imagination.

"Alec, are you all right?" Isabelle asked, walking up to her brother and effectively shaking him out of his reverie. She took him in with a look of concern, the light of the candle she was holding casting a warm glow on her skin. Her eyes reflected the candlelight; the yellow flame flickering in the darkness of her deep brown eyes was almost like the moon illuminating the dark night sky.

"Yes, I'm all right," he responded, although his reply did nothing to erase the worry from her face. She wasn't buying it, and for good reason, probably. Alec didn't even know what he looked like, but considering the recent events, whatever relaxing effect his ministrations with Magnus might have given him had undoubtedly been exchanged for tiredness and worry. "Sorry for waking you up."

"I was not sleeping, brother. You disappeared after you went to see Raphael with Jace, and he could not tell me where you went. I tried to threaten him but apparently he was actually speaking the truth, and not just being annoyingly defiant. There is a first time for everything, is there not?" She smiled sweetly, trying to ease the tension Alec exuded. Alec felt selfish all of a sudden. It was stupid of him to go out and not tell anyone where he went. What if he hadn't seen the demon in time and the attack on his horse had actually landed? What if he had died on his way back? The only one who knew about his activities was Magnus, and the flamboyant, exotic prostitute could hardly saunter into the court and make his case. Although, Alec knew this wouldn't keep Magnus from trying to do so.

"I went to Magnus," Alec responded. Isabelle grabbed his free hand and dragged him over to the bed, urging him to sit down beside her.

"Oh? And how was that?" she asked, clearly very interested in knowing what had happened.

"It was amazing," Alec said quietly after a short silence. Isabelle grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly. He could see the excitement on her face.

"Really? What did you do? How far did you go? I am so happy for you!" Of course, his sister was happy to hear about Alec's advances; she always thought that he was depriving himself of happiness by suppressing his desires, and this change in attitude seemed to delight her. "Alec?"

Perhaps Alec opened his mouth to reply, perhaps he did not. He suddenly felt oddly detached, and that was when he noticed the throbbing of his leg. He tightened his grip on the arrow he was still holding onto as he ran his fingers over the fabric of his breeches. Apparently he had been hit by the venom as well; it had eaten its way through the soft leather of his pants and into his leg, causing a peppering of black spots to appear. It did explain why Alec felt so squeamish all of a sudden.

"What is that? Alec?" Isabelle said, her voice filled with urgency as she ran her fingers over the burnt skin.

"I was attacked on my way back," Alec said. He told her the story of how unnaturally silent the night had been, and about the sudden presence he had perceived. After that, he showed her the cloth that was spotted with the same black fluid that had eaten its way into both Arrow's and his very own leg.

Isabelle inspected the fabric before she slowly peeled it away from the object it had been wrapped around, her eyebrows furrowing into a deep frown. She scratched at the black matter, but it didn't release its hold from the cloth. It had completely seeped into the material, and even eaten its way through at some points. She slowly brought it closer to her nose in order to smell it more clearly, but the rankness of the stench quickly caused her expression to turn sour and for her to lower the cloth. The scent of rot and decay was an unpleasant and very pungent one indeed.

"I have never seen anything like this before," Isabelle said, putting the cloth on her night stand before studying the arrow. The wood was still untainted, but the runes that decorated the shaft were no longer glowing. She dismissed the arrow and put it next to the cloth before leaning in and bringing the candlelight closer to Alec's assaulted leg. "A medic has to take a look at this. We don't know if it will spread or if it will cause any sort of festering." Isabelle had always been a pragmatic person, as well as someone who was very, very stubborn and persuasive. She had proved that yesterday, by once again getting her way, this time regarding Clary's training. Whatever competitiveness there might have been between the two siblings had vanished into thin air by now, however.

"It will be fine, Izzy. Don't worry about it," Alec said, but it hardly mattered. Trying to soothe her protective concern was fruitless anyway.

"And we have to bring this to Hodge, and Jace, at the very least."

Panic gripped at Alec's throat, the anxiety much like a death trap threatening to cut off his air supply. He could not have anyone else know about this. He didn't have a cover story, didn't have a single excuse. Telling the truth was out of the question.

"No," he said, and there must have been something in his voice, because the concerned look returned full force as Isabelle regarded him. "We cannot tell them. Not about Magnus."

"We don't have to, Alec," she said, frowning when Alec shook his head.

"I don't have another explanation. What other reason can there be that I returned in the dead of the night? We cannot tell the truth!"

"I know, I know, big brother. This worrying is not necessary. We can just tell them it was a woman instead. Jace is already suspicious of you, anyway. They will buy it without a single question asked."

Alec didn't want to hide Magnus behind some petty lie, didn't want to reduce him to less than what he was. He didn't want people who were dear to him to think of him as someone, or something, he was not, but he had no choice in this matter. He was blessed with Isabelle, who supported and accepted him no matter what, but such individuals were rare and he knew that such an understanding, or even something that closely resembled it, could not be expected of the others.

"Alec," Isabelle said sweetly, completely misunderstanding his sudden anxiety. She grabbed his gloved hand and squeezed it tightly. "It will be fine."

* * *

When he woke up later that morning he half expected Magnus to be there. He groped around blindly before he realised that he was alone in his own bed, and not back in the brothel, where Magnus's body fit so nicely against his and he was surrounded by the warm scent of sandalwood. Perhaps that had thrown him off; the slightest hint of sandalwood still clung to his own skin. He breathed deeply before he pushed himself up in a seating position. He could feel his heartbeat throb in his leg, and he winced as he pulled the sheets back and regarded the black spots on his thigh.

It had eaten more of his skin and deeper into his flesh; the areas around the places the ichor had touched were an angry red and raised with inflammation. He ran his fingers over the spots and they were burning hot underneath his touch. He thought about Arrow and how she had gotten more onto her than he had. He had to check on her.

He dragged himself out of bed and dressed in comfortable and practical clothing. The fine wool of his breeches brushed painfully against the swollen skin with every movement he made, but he just gritted his teeth and dealt with it. He left his room and quickly made his way through the castle, the maze of corridors as familiar to him as his own thumb. He grabbed an apple from the kitchens as he passed through and quickly left the castle. The stables were directly across from the kitchens. He was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't as hot as it had been for most of the summer, and the cool breeze was a nice change.

As promised, there was a boy sitting in front of Arrow's stable. He was sitting on a three-legged stool, rocking gently from side to side, as he worked on repairing a bridle. He didn't seem too annoyed by his assignment, and Alec could hear him whisper under his breath as he approached the boy. It wasn't until he was standing directly in front of him that the boy looked up, his hazel eyes wide and his freckled face shocked as he regarded the visitor.

"Who're you?" he asked, raising from the stool. He was taller than he looked, all lanky limbs and freckled skin. The stable master guffawed as he rounded the corner, and he patted his boy on the back with a fond smile.

"It's his horse, you oaf," he said, before turning to Alec. "I saw you enter, but I had to check up on a filly. Blasted thing burst right through a fence, got a piece of wood stuck in her leg and still walks like she owns the world. Women." He sighed and shook his head. Alec forced a smile as the man chuckled to himself.

"How is she doing?" Alec asked, stepping closer to the stable in order to peer in. Arrow was drowsing in the middle of the stable, her injured leg on rest and her nose close to the ground.

"Not very well, I'm afraid. The wounds got worse over night and she's lame, so I put some of my special magical ointment on them. It should heal soon, but I've never seen wounds of this nature before, so I can't promise anything. But it's a good, strong horse, so she got a chance."

Alec nodded, but the words didn't do anything to lessen his concern. He removed the bolt from the door and that caused Arrow to look up. She snorted softly in recognition, stretching out her neck to press her soft nose against his stomach. Alec ran his fingers through her forelock before breaking the apple in half, and then in quarters. He offered her one of the slices and she accepted it with a brush of her lips against the palm of Alec's hand. He walked to her backside and inspected the wounds. The spots looked much like the ones on Alec's leg did, if not slightly worse. After his inspection, he patted her on the shoulder before stepping back. He fed the rest of the apple to Isabelle's piebald stallion. The animal nudged him curiously, asking him for more, his brilliant blue eyes shining intelligently. Isabelle had chosen the most stubborn and unique horse the stable had to offer. Their parents hadn't been too pleased with her decision, but that hadn't mattered to her.

"Ah, Alec." The owner of the voice placed a hand on his shoulder, and Alec glanced over it to see his mentor standing there. Hodge had a small smile on his face, but it did little to soften his harsh features. The scar on the right side of his face caused his eyelid to droop downward slightly, and his beaky nose hardly fit his face. Even so, he had always been a kind man. "Isabelle mentioned there was something we should talk about. Walk with me, if you will?"

Alec nodded affirmatively, following the man back to the castle. He did his best to try to hide the pain in his leg, slowing down a little to even his gait. It seemed to work; aside from one curious glance, Hodge didn't comment on it. The raven that was, as always, perched on his shoulder was screeching loudly as they approached Jace's private chambers.

Alec realised that this was going to be a more unpleasant and painful conversation than he had initially anticipated the moment he stepped over the threshold and saw that both his parents were there. At least the rat and Jace's beloved redhead weren't there; that would have made the situation even more unnecessarily complicated. Isabelle regarded him with worry as he dragged himself across the chamber on his mother's command and settled in a padded chair next to her. She leant over to him, but before she had a chance to whisper into his ear, Maryse cleared her throat and regarded everyone coldly. Everyone except Jace, whom she regarded with a softness neither Alec nor Isabelle had received from her in a long while.

"Isabelle," she said harshly, causing her daughter to sit up a little straighter, raising her chin. It was an automatic response that was generated whenever Maryse addressed her. Only their mother could bring out that fieriness in his sister. "Please inform us."

Isabelle rose from the chair she was sitting in, her silk skirts rustling from the movement. Maryse watched her with disapproval, like always, whilst the features of their father softened slightly. He had always loved and cherished his daughter.

"It truly is not my tale to tell," Isabelle said, her eyes seeking out Alec's. Alec didn't want this to happen, didn't want the others to hear the lie Isabelle had come up with. A lie to protect Alec, to protect his dignity and his position, to protect him as a person. How much would his mother hate him if she knew the truth? How disgusted would Jace look if he found out? He didn't want to know the answers.

Alec found himself nodding at his sister, before stepping forward himself.

 _Let me know what you think! :]_


	6. Grey Cotton

_I'm not really happy with this, but it really is about time that I start updating again. So... oh well. Thanks to everyone who read, followed and favourited, and reviewed!, this story, and I'm terribly sorry about the wait (again)._

 _Beta-ed by JelloDVDs~_

"You know," Jace said as he tossed his dagger before catching it again and repeating the motion, his golden eyes flickering from Alec, who was standing close to the door, to Clary, who was sitting near the fireplace and had crossed her arms over her chest. Her current position optimised the distance between her and the monarch, and Alec knew this was most definitely done on purpose. Jace seemed completely unaffected by her obvious displeasure regarding him, however. "This lock down could be extremely inconvenient for certain individuals."

"Like the entire city that is dying down there?" Clary replied with a glare. She seemed to have made it her personal mission to make this entire situation even more excruciating. Alec massaged his temples, quite certain the gentle throbbing that had started inside his skull was the beginning of a massive headache.

"Why would they care? It's not like some locked up nobles are going to change anything about their situations," Jace replied. "I mean, sure, we have good intentions. We give you some money and a pat on the shoulder and then we return to our keeps to feast on an abundance of glorious food, half of which will end up as scraps in the kennels of the hunting dogs."

"Jace," Alec warned. Jace had been like this ever since Alec's untruthful testimony had caused Maryse to lock down the entire castle, send out patrols to guard the perimeter and increase the overall security around the place. Jace had argued that protecting the castle was hardly an appropriate approach to a threat that didn't seem to target them in the first place, but Maryse hadn't bothered to listen to him. Even though Jace technically held all the power in regard to any kind of distribution of manpower, he had let her divide the forces however she pleased and returned to his chambers to sulk and be annoying, which was, quite honestly, what he did best nowadays.

Clary was still hidden here, tucked away safely in one of the chambers Jace wasn't using. Alec wasn't entirely sure what exactly was transpiring between the duo, but he was quite certain that Clary was not granting Jace what he truly wanted from her. That was perhaps the only aspect of her personality that made her even the slightest bit bearable; her complete and utter disregard toward Jace's unsubtle advances.

"That's what they think, anyway. That's why she's been looking at us with so much disgust. She thinks we don't care. And well, maybe not all of us do, but I'm the king and I don't like seeing my people die," Jace continued, not heeding Alec's growled warning. He was sitting at the head of the table, his feet propped up on the polished mahogany tabletop while he played with his knife. He balanced the weapon on his knuckles and disrupted it by moving his fingers, engaging the blade in a lethal dance that could end in chopped-off fingers at any moment. Alec resisted the urge to step forward and snatch the precious weapon away from him.

"Isn't that what your annual tournaments are for?" Clary seethed.

"Interesting point," Jace said. "I would like to remind you that the men participating in those tournaments are often of at least minor nobility as well. It's more like cutting out the infection before it starts to spread, if seen from your viewpoint."

"My viewpoint? Or the viewpoint of the lesser folk?" Clary nearly hissed.

"Jace," Alec warned again, recognising the mischievous glint that caused Jace's golden eyes to dance with mirth. This time, Jace actually did seem to take his warning into account before he proceeded.

"No," he mused. "What I actually wanted to say was that the lock-down is inconvenient for people who might want to leave. Alec, I really don't mean to pry, but where exactly were you last night?" Jace asked, snatching his dagger out of the air and running his finger along the blade.

"This is enough," Alec responded coolly, although the discomfort spreading in his stomach caused him to be everything but detached and composed on the inside. "I'm leaving. I have no time to supervise your silly mind games."

"Where are you going?" Jace asked, his eyes flickering from an angry Clary to his guard. Clary looked like a petulant child. Isabelle had continued her attempts to turn Clary into more of a lady, and even though her work was admirable, Clary's demeanour was simply too distasteful to live up to the expectations one might have of a lady of even the lowest rank amongst nobility. She looked pretty, sure; Isabelle had cleaned her up well and tamed her unruly, fiery locks into an intricate braid as well as forced her into a forest green gown, but a change in appearance clearly did not initiate a change in behaviour.

"To see my horse," Alec answered, because it was the first thing that seemed plausible enough of an excuse to actually get away with. He would rather visit Isabelle, but he knew Maryse was keeping her preoccupied at the moment. Plus, he knew what direction she would proceed to attempt to nudge him toward. She had stopped him earlier that day when he was about to leave the council chamber in order to let him know that he shouldn't cut himself off from his own happiness and that her horse was always available to him. He wasn't really in the mood to be discussing those kind of subjects with her at the moment, though. He also doubted Maryse had let her go yet; she'd seemed uncharacteristically displeased with her daughter that morning, and Alec suspected her involvement in the crafting of Alec's fake story had more than just something to do with that.

"Good. I'll walk you," Jace said, getting up from his chair. He considered his dagger with pursed lips for a few moments before he threw it at the table with a simple flick of his wrist. The weapon dug itself into the thick, expensive wood with zero difficulty. Alec winced at the destruction of the furniture, whereas Clary seemed to flinch at the sudden show of violence. Jace followed Alec out of the chamber and into the corridor.

"So, where were you?" he inquired the moment the double doors closed soundly behind them.

"It's exactly like how Izzy and I told the story," Alec responded, making sure to pick up the pace as they strode down the long corridor. The sooner he could get rid of Jace, the better, even if it did mean that the pain that was blossoming in his thigh continued to intensify.

"I have a really hard time believing that, Alec. I know you. Wait. Look at me." Alec rolled his eyes and allowed the hand pressing down on his shoulder to bring him to a stop. He looked down on Jace and raised his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. Alec winced when Jace's hand clamped down on his neck and Jace pulled their foreheads closer together, locking their gazes. "I know you hate brothels. I know you dislike those women. You don't have to tell me what you were doing, but where were you? I have a hard time believing the cover story Izzy obviously came up with."

Alec cleared his throat. "I was returning from the brothel. That was true."

"What were you doing there?"

Alec swatted Jace's hand away and turned around to continue walking down the corridor. Warm sunlight filtered through the windows and arrow slits in the castle walls, and specks of dust fluttered around in the air. The golden threads of the tapestries lining the walls lit up brilliantly under the gentle caress of the sun rays, and the golden cloth of the Herondale banners glistened just as brightly. It created an atmosphere that was almost idyllic, and perhaps that was a rather fitting description of what Alec was experiencing right now; an inexplicable detachment from reality that urged him to leave the castle behind and venture somewhere else.

"Alec, seriously, what's up with you?" Jace asked as he followed him, his annoyance resounding in his voice.

"No, Jace," Alec responded coldly, turning around to face his friend. "What's up with you? You've been acting like a royal ass ever since that girl arrived. Every time she bats her filthy eyelashes at you you become more of an asshole than you were before."

"She's not filthy," Jace responded, and Alec snorted, not quite believing that out of all the accusations that were just made, Jace decided the one about Clary had to be refuted.

"Do I have to remind you of where we found her? I literally pulled her lover out of a dirty alleyway!"

"Simon is not her lover. What is your problem with Clary anyway?" Jace responded, his teeth gritted.

"She's changed you. And it's not a good change."

"Well, whatever you're doing is changing you. It's only a matter of time before they find out what you've been up to, and who will be there to support you when that happens?"

"Izzy will support me. I don't need your help," Alec responded, even though he knew it to be less than true. Sure, he could count on Isabelle, but the influence of her words was non-existent. She was a woman in a society built around men, and she was, despite her obvious intellect, hardly taken seriously to begin with. Jace easily called out his bluff.

"Isabelle is an amazing lady, but the word of a woman, no matter how intelligent she might be, will not protect you," Jace rebuked, before sighing. Alec felt his resolve crumble around the edges when he saw the annoyance leave Jace's eyes to be replaced by a much softer expression. "Alec. I know you've been up to something potentially illegal. Let me help you. Whatever you're hiding, you don't have to keep it from me. We're brothers. We support each other." Alec closed his eyes when he felt Jace's hand clasp his neck again in a reassuring gesture. This had always been their thing; their token and display of brotherly affection.

This was it; a perfect situation, a moment for him to open up to someone who would not berate him was offered to him on a silver platter, and all he could do was almost choke as fear settled at the base of his throat. He knew that the odds of Jace hating him after such a confession were slim to non-existent; they went too far back for them to hate each other. He was a good guy and an even better friend, despite the lousy behaviour he had been indulging in lately, and if he wanted a safe individual to open up to, Jace was right there.

He couldn't bring himself to do it, though, and he wasn't even sure if he wanted to even if he could. The weight of what could potentially happen to him, or more importantly, to Magnus, if this confidential information fell into the wrong hands was devastating and a burden too heavy to bear. Whilst Jace would not prosecute him for his deficiency, the majority of the kingdom most definitely would. Men laying with other men was a filthy practice, one that was condemned. It was restricted to brothels and even then it was heavily frowned upon; male prostitutes who catered to such desires were in constant danger of being captured and tortured. There was no place for men who loved other men in the kingdom of the Angel, and this would not change. Not ever, potentially.

Alec opened his eyes and gazed into Jace's. Jace was the sole monarch and even he would be incapable of protecting Alec if this secret was exposed. If it became public that Jace had not punished Alec for his sinful deeds the kingdom would riot and the attention of the Clave, a secret society that operated from an island in the middle of the Narrow Sea and justified its actions by claiming they operated in the name of the Angel, would most definitely be attracted. His sins were not among those that were taken lightly, and it was his own burden to bear, not Jace's.

Alec licked his chapped lips and forced himself back together. "It's nothing you should worry about, Jace," he said, grabbing Jace's wrist and removing his hand from his neck. "You have more important matters on your mind."

"You're my friend, Alec. Whatever is bothering you should be bothering me, too. I don't care about this fucking kingdom. You're more important. I need you here."

"I'm here. Always. You know that," Alec replied. "And about Clary, I really recommend you think about that. It will only be a matter of time before Maryse finds out."

"You won't tell her, will you?" Jace inquired, his eyes narrowing.

"Not now. But don't make me choose between my loyalty as a friend and my duty as a guard. I can predict the outcome will most likely not be in your favour," Alec responded before he turned around. Jace didn't follow him as he walked away, which was a relief.

–

"Oh, hi, Alec," Lydia said the moment he set foot into the stables. She was a huntress under Maryse, although she had first been sent to court as an envoy from the Clave years ago. Alec wasn't entirely sure what had happened in order for her to change her mind and join the hunters here, and he also didn't know if she still reported back to the Clave. He did know he appreciated her as a person, however, and he wasn't too unhappy to walk into her at this moment; there were worse people to be in the company of. "I heard about what happened last night. Pretty tough. How is your leg doing?"

Alec nearly winced at the reminder. He had been quite capable of hiding the pain that had spread throughout his entire thigh so far, but it was a hard façade to keep up. He knew what the tortured skin looked like, and he also recognised that whatever the demon venom was doing to his flesh was most definitely not good. The throbbing ache was bearable still, although he doubted it would remain that way for much longer. Over the course of the day, the spots had continued to grow in size and eat away more of his flesh.

"It's better now," Alec lied, walking around her to Arrow's stable. The horse's head was low and her eyes were dull, and Alec knew that whatever was killing her, was killing him too. He felt bad for the poor animal. She had always been a good horse, and he didn't want her to go in such a bad way. He wondered how long it would take before the stable master would approach him and quietly ask him if Alec wouldn't agree that putting her out of her misery would be a friendlier approach.

"She looks bad," Lydia supplied unhelpfully, her blue eyes filled with unspoken questions as she regarded Alec. She was standing near the stable of her black horse, looping a coarse rope around her elbow in order to stash it away. She must have been on a hunting trip earlier today, although Alec suspected the lock-down had put a quick end to that particular endeavour.

"Yeah," Alec replied. "Lydia, do you know where the stable master is?"

"I think he went upstairs to fetch something a couple minutes ago. Should be back in a bit, why?"

Alec looked at Isabelle's piebald gelding and considered how much time he would need to saddle the horse and sneak it out of here, and how big the odds were of him being able to do it without anyone noticing. There were no stable boys in the near vicinity, and the only direct threat to his plan was Lydia's presence.

"I wanted to ask him about Arrow," Alec said, before shrugging. "Although I suppose I can wait."

"I can call out to him when I put this away, if you want? I'm sure he wouldn't mind coming back down." Alec averted his eyes, the compassion and concern in her eyes making him feel slightly guilty. He didn't know why sneaking away from the castle sounded like such a brilliant plan to him at the moment, but something told him that he needed to get to Magnus. It was more than just his obvious attraction to the man that was urging him to make the trip; it was almost like something was tickling the back of his mind, flaunting important information in his face that could help him solve a problem, although he wasn't entirely sure what problem exactly or how Magnus would come into play. Sure, the flamboyant man was knowledgeable, but certainly he knew very little about Alec's current predicaments, and especially about the matter of how to solve them.

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks for the help, though, Lydia," he said, and she smiled at him before she turned around and made her way down the stables. Alec waited until she was well around the corner and he heard a door close before he quickly walked over to Isabelle's horse.

One blue and brown eye looked at him curiously as he opened the stable door. This horse and him went way back; Alec had been the one to first introduce him to a saddle and to break him in all the way back when Isabelle had decided this horse was ideal for her. Maryse and Robert had been less than pleased and had proceeded to forbid the stable master to bring him under the saddle, so Alec had taken on the task instead, determined to make his sister happy. He was quite certain that up until this day Maryse had yet to decide whether she was proud of him or angry at him for defying her.

"Ready for a ride, old friend?" Alec said, grabbing the bridle that hung from the door.


	7. Yellow Satin

_Guess who's back! *gets hit by a rotten tomato* Awww... Well. Uhm. Thank you guys so much for sticking with me through this extremely long ride. The fact that this is only the seventh chapter is giving me a headache... Anyway, thanks for your support, and your favs and follows, and especially your reviews. They truly do make my day. You're amazing!_

 _Also, question: Would you be interested in reading a chapter in Magnus's POV? I've been thinking about writing one, but I'm not sure if you would be interested... so let me know!_

 _Beta-ed by the amazing JelloDVDs~ :3_

 **~Interlude~**

The intricate tunnel complex that ran underneath the entire city seemed to have been neglected lately. Perhaps it had never been a priority in the maintenance of the city. As a matter of fact, it was doubtful many more than just Raphael and his Children knew of their existence in the first place. Puddles of dirty, stinking water had pooled in the middle of the tunnels, giving off a faint green sheen in the light of the hooded man's torch. Water splashed around his feet, soaking through the hems of his robe. The only sounds in the tunnels were the quiet crackling of the fire, his slightly laboured breathing and the sloshing of his footsteps through the dirty underground. It smelt like death and mould.

Back in the day, there used to be many rumours that claimed the tunnels would stretch as far as the island on which the Clave had settled, paving a straight path underneath the Narrow Sea to connect the land of Idris with what they called the holy place. No one had ever bothered to test that theory, though, and it had quickly been smothered when the use of the tunnels had become privatised. For the man personally, walking for days on end to arrive at the blessed sanctuary the Clave had claimed as their property seemed about as alluring as chewing off his fingernails.

They were nasty people with nasty customs, and simply showing his face and his abnormalities would be enough of an excuse for them to exterminate him. He tightened his grip on his torch, the multiple joints of his fingers surrounding the wood tightly. The air was stuffy and the torch crackled with blue sparks to fuel the struggling flames.

Not much farther, he reminded himself. He recognised the spells carved into the stone walls. He felt the power of the ancient chants as he ran the palm of his hand over the wall.

He came to a stop in front of a door that had a face carved into the metal. The metal gleamed dully in the light of his torch, and the handiwork was so majestic it almost seemed like the face belonged to a living organism. And, well, perhaps it did.

Its eyelids parted to reveal hostile yellow irises with thin, black slits for pupils. There was a low rumble that caused an involuntary shiver to run down his spine, but the lips of the face before him never parted. It was inanimate, and yet extremely intimidating.

"Your name," a low voice ordered.

"Ragnor Fell." Nothing happened. Only silence followed his voice.

"Your name," the thing grumbled again, and the man breathed in slowly as he reached out. The palm of his hand fit perfectly in the space between the two gleaming eyes, and seemed to suck his skin against the metal with an invisible force. He could feel it drawing something out of him, and gritted his teeth when his green hand lost its extra joints and then its colouring until it was just a normal hand with his own caramel complexion. He could feel the horns that had settled on his forehead retract and disappear, and knew that his cover was blown.

He took his hand back when the suctioning power ceased to exist, rubbing his fingertips together. His blue magic sparked, and even though he knew he had nothing to hide behind and no identity to assume other than his own, seeing that his magic had been preserved was quite the relief.

The door opened on creaking hinges to reveal a creature on the other side. It had two mouths. Two sets of lips. The corners of both pairs of lips curled up into wicked smirks as it regarded the newcomer. The third and fourth eyes on its forehead fluttered open, and the eyelids of the face on the door closed simultaneously. Two pairs of large breasts hung over the layers of skin of its stomach, and its entire body swayed as it tilted its head.

"Myrmeïs," he said, lowering his head in submission.

"A surprise?" it purred, long, gnarled fingers reaching out, urging him to come closer. "Welcome, old friend."

 **~End of Interlude~**

Clary gasped as the impact with the stone floor knocked all the breath out of her, but she was clever enough to roll to the side, scrambling to get out of his range. Alec's staff hit the spot where her left arm had just been, and the force behind the stroke would have been enough to pulverise the bone.

"The Angel, Alec," Clary panted, now on her feet and watching him warily from near the edge of the practice circle. They had been using the top of the King's Tower for their morning training sessions. It was a forgotten place, a spot of the castle that had been neglected and abandoned. It used to be the queen's garden, meant especially for the queen's relaxation and the study of the young heirs she would proceed to produce. This was the place where the queen could come and have tea with minor nobles, where she could gossip, where her maids could braid her hair in the gentle afternoon sun.

Needless to say, under Maryse's role as Queen Regent it had been reduced to nothing more than unkempt weeds and dirt. The only reason why she had held onto the palace gardens in the courtyard was for the visiting members of nobility, but she did not want to consider even the slightest monetary investment for a place of spirituality that was not meant for the public eye. She had never been good at keeping things alive, nor had she ever tried.

Alec could remember how colourful and sweet the garden had been when they had just moved into the castle. This was where he had taught Isabelle how to fight, and where Jace and him had parried endlessly during silent nights, with the tender, silvery rays of the caring, full moon as their only guidance.

"You are in a terrible mood today," Clary complained, rolling her shoulder with a grimace on her face. Her ill-fitting breeches were torn and bloodied at her right knee, showing an ugly scrape that disappeared down her shin. The palms of her hands were dirty and her face was damp with perspiration. She had tamed her fiery hair into a more pragmatic braid, but angry curls had started to escape during their exercises. "Who stole your happy place?"

"Out in the real world they won't have mercy for you," Alec reasoned coldly.

"Well, I'm not there right now. I'm pretty sure Jace didn't mean this when he said you should train me," she sulked, walking over to where her staff lay, discarded. She kept her eyes on him as she quickly bent down to retrieve it. She was becoming less clumsy, and Alec was pleased to see the nimbleness that was manifesting in her movements. She might be annoying, but at least she attempted to be a worthy student.

"I do not believe in illusions. Out there, they will kill you. Over here the worst I will do is fracture some bones, break your arrogance. Nothing time can't heal, although in some cases, it probably should not."

Clary blew up her cheeks and then sighed, holding her staff at shoulder height with both her hands. Her knuckles were bloodied, her arms were trembling with exhaustion. "Again."

"You should take some rest," Alec replied. "Don't want to hurt your pretty face too much."

"It's a little too late to worry about my face. Plus, it was never pretty to begin with. Again," Clary dismissed him, the fire in her green eyes kindling.

Alec raised his eyebrows. He was resting his weight on his staff almost languidly, trying to look as unaffected and bored as he could manage. In fact, his thigh was screaming at him to stop, the burning sensation of his rotten flesh flaring up and intensifying during every waking moment. It caused his stomach to churn and shivers to run up his spine as he shifted his weight onto the leg. His facial expression, however, remained completely composed.

"Fine. Take on your stance," Alec ordered, not bothering to do the same himself. Instead, he gritted his teeth and took the opportunity to glance out over the crenelations and stare at the Narrow Sea that lay beyond. The entire city stretched out before them, with the Cathedral of the Angel located in the perfect middle. The water of the river Stele gleamed in the morning sunlight, and the scenery was peaceful. It was hard to believe dark days had come upon them.

He was attempting to find the brothel that housed Magnus between the fading shapes and overlapping colours, momentarily absorbed in his mental quest until he could hear Clary's rapid footsteps approaching him. His fingers tightened around his staff, and he brought it up at the last moment to parry her attack. The blow nearly knocked her staff out of her unsteady hands, but she held onto it with a gasp, her wrist twisting unnaturally. She jumped away, almost stumbling over her own feet.

Alec circled her as Clary regained her bearings, flexing her hand briefly to relieve some of the pain before grasping her staff again. She was panting slightly. Alec stepped forward, using the staff as an extension of himself as he hit her on the thigh, distracting her, before moving it upward again. She caught his blow on the end of her staff, albeit just barely. When she moved to dance away from him again, Alec followed, twisting his staff in his hands before feigning to strike her left side and actually hitting her right shoulder. She hissed and curled into herself involuntarily. The next blow caused her to lose her grip on the staff, and he used the end of his staff to hit her against the underside of her chin. She stumbled backwards and crouched down on the floor with a groan. The staff spun in Alec's fingers and came to a stop just next to her temple. He gently tapped the top of her ear to let her know she would have died.

"You should work on your stance. Your defence is off. So is your attack. Your yielding is sloppy," he told her, before extending a hand to help her up. She didn't take it. Instead, she slowly climbed back to her feet on her own. Clary had spirit, Alec had to admit that.

Alec dismissed Clary, since he deemed she had had more than enough, and he watched her go with his eyebrows furrowed. It was admirable of her to keep coming back even though Alec showed no mercy and slammed her into the unforgiving stone every single morning, but he found it hard to come to terms with the quiet appreciation he had for her. The truth remained that she was dangerous, and that they knew absolutely nothing about her. He had to protect Jace, and she was only making that task more difficult. Clary disappeared down the stairs, nursing a fair collection of darkening bruises and sporting the slightest limp. When the door closed behind her, Alec lowered himself onto the ground. He crossed his legs, even though his infected thigh protested loudly at the sudden movement, and laid his staff across his knees.

His condition had only proceeded to worsen, and he could feel the effects now. He swayed whenever he were to rise and he attempted to rest his leg when he was standing. His stance was slightly unstable and it was good Clary had yet to develop a sense for her opponent's weaknesses, otherwise the outcome of their sparring might have been quite the opposite.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, and his thoughts immediately brought him back to two days ago, when he had gone to visit Magnus on Isabelle's horse and had been terribly punished for the risk he had taken.

Magnus hadn't been there.

It was silly of him to blame Magnus for his apparent absence. Of course, the man had had more pressing matters to attend to than the whims of a simple soldier, especially when that soldier was Alec, and perhaps his unavailability wasn't even rooted in his absence, but more in other activities he could have been engaging in. Magnus was a prostitute, Alec had to remind himself. That meant he most likely had to please more than just a single customer, especially when that solitary clientèle didn't even pay him for his services. It was incomprehensibly foolish of him to assume that Magnus felt any emotional connection to him, and he couldn't help but blame himself for believing that such a thing might be the case in the first place.

"He is not here," she had said with a sympathetic smile on her face that was so false, so sharp, that it was unpleasant to look at. The corners of her full lips had curled up to reveal pointy, pearly white teeth, as she had pushed Alec down into a padded chair. It had been Camille who had awaited him, not Magnus. It had been Camille who had grabbed his hand while fluttering her eyelashes and pulled him along to a chamber near the back of the brothel. Inside, it had smelt heavily like sex and exotic spices, and Alec had spotted a large bed with golden and red silk sheets in the corner. The sheets were unmade, the pooling silk gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as the colours of the fabric blended together to form a sea of hungry flames that could not rival the dangerous emotion that lay hidden in Camille's sharp, green eyes.

"What do you want?" Alec had asked then, finally regaining some of his senses. It was hard to concentrate whenever he looked at her, so he tried to keep his gaze focused elsewhere. The sight of her caused his mind to stutter and his body to tense in warning. There was something off about her, and Alec didn't doubt for a second that she was extremely dangerous. Which was why studying her from his peripheral vision was perhaps not the wisest action to undertake, but he preferred maintaining some kind of cognitive capability over studying and monitoring her every action.

The fact that this was a mistake was made more than clear when he turned his head a little and saw that she had shrugged off the flimsy fabric of her gown. The silk had come to pool around her curvy waist, and her chest was fully exposed, her nipples pert in the slightly cooler air of her bedchamber. Alec focused on the pot of dried-up red ink and the quill on the corner of the desk. They were the only functional objects that seemed to exist around Camille's office, aside from the shelves filled with leather-bound tomes behind her.

The desk was made of polished mahogany that gleamed like a mirror in the sunlight that streamed in through the sole window. Alec could see Camille's reflection in the dark wood.

"Just a casual chat," Camille said, her fingernails tracing veins in the wood. "Can't blame a girl for that, can you? You are quite fascinating. Plus, I prefer my knowledge of Magnus's escapades to be completely up to par. He does tend to go a bit rogue sometimes. You are probably very much aware of that." When Alec remained silent and refrained from responding to her jest, her eyes widened and she looked pleased. "Unless… I suppose that could be the case. You do not quite seem the kind. Poor thing."

"What makes you say that?" Alec argued, and Camille raised her eyebrows in merriment.

"You are innocent. It basically seeps out of you. Magnus would not have dared to defile that," Camille reasoned. "I agree with him. It is so boring. Which is why this odd infatuation is so fascinating. You are nothing like his usual."

"His usual?" Alec wanted himself to shut up, to stop digging this hole. To get up and walk away and pretend that this didn't hurt, that he didn't care. It felt like he was stuck to the chair, though. The thought of getting up and fleeing seemed almost impossible, if the heaviness in his limbs was any indication.

"His usual, his plentiful. His dose of sexual attraction, yes. Magnus is a complicated creature. He tends to think so highly of himself. He likes to save others, which is quite sickening, to be frank, and he does not seem to comprehend that this quest of his is completely unnecessary. Him and I are meant to be."

"This happens often?"

"This? Do you mean him picking up innocent boys? Magnus enjoys taking risks. Having mindless sex with men happens to be one of those. You don't mean anything to him, Alexander."

"Alec," Alec corrected her. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. Of course, they had nothing special. What an idiot he was to believe they did. He had kept telling himself that what was between them wasn't real; that it was a mere illusion. The pain he felt in his chest, however, showed him that his attempts had been less than successful.

"Alec."

Alec opened his eyes to see his mentor holding open the door. Hodge's eyes were slightly narrowed as he gazed out over the sun-bathed expanse of what was once the garden. His raven sat on his shoulder, the large, black bird cocking its head intelligently before cawing.

"Hodge," Alec replied. He used his staff to get back to his feet. The world spun for him for a small while before he was completely upright.

"I was looking for you. Please, join me to my chambers? We have to discuss a matter of utmost importance," Hodge said. Alec nodded and followed him sullenly. His mind was still back in the brothel.

Hodge's chambers consisted of a private collection of papyrus scrolls and old books that was a lot more interesting than anything the library had to offer. These told tales about ancient people, who lived in a time where magic flowed through the soil of Idris and magical creatures freely roamed the lands. Nowadays, magic was little more than a fable and an insistent fear rooted in the hearts of the people, who had been taught through nursery rhymes that all magic was evil.

Alec wasn't terribly surprised when Isabelle was already there, sitting on a chair next to the fireplace with a worried look on her face.

"What is this?" Alec asked with a sigh.

"I asked Hodge to look at your leg.," Isabelle replied, lifting her chin. "You have been neglecting it, I know that."

Alec was about to protest when Hodge added gravely, "Also, there are some important matters. We got a bird from the Clave this morning."

"A bird?" Alec responded, his eyes frantically scanning Hodge's room. He finally found the animal; it was perched near the window, preening its black feathers. A black bird. Not a white one.

"A summons," Hodge replied as he gestured for Alec to sit down. Alec did, begrudgingly so.

"For who?"

"Jace," Isabelle responded. "We had the meeting while you were up in the gardens with Clary."

"What did you decide?" Alec inquired firmly.

"We cannot miss Jace at this moment," Hodge responded. "It is a very concise message. Very worrisome. I think we would be right to assume that word about our demonic activity has reached the Clave by now, and I cannot quite imagine what they have in mind. There will be repercussions. They will undoubtedly assume it is something our society did, and that is extremely dangerous. The Clave has a very complicated procedure on how to deal with situations they consider hazardous, and we do not want to be at the receiving end of their negative treatment."

"What was decided?" Alec pressed.

"Robert will go. He will take a small host and some nobility. It should pacify them," Hodge said, although he didn't seem to have much faith in his own prediction.

"What if it irritates them? What if they send an envoy?"

"An envoy is already crossing the Narrow Sea as we speak," Isabelle replied.

"They want us to send away the monarch and then infiltrate with an envoy?" Alec summarised in disbelief.

"We never claimed the Clave was known for its subtlety," Hodge said. "Now, let me see this infection."

Alec sighed, undid his breeches and lowered them so his thigh was visible. Isabelle gasped and rose from her chair, striding over to him in her beautiful maroon gown.

"By the Angel, Alec," she berated him, and Hodge looked just as displeased.

"This is far gone," he said, touching the skin gingerly. Alec's muscles flexed in response, the pain shooting up his entire body. "My boy. I do not think I have anything to cure this. I can attempt to lessen the inflammation but it does not look very promising."

"You went to see Magnus, didn't you?" Isabelle whispered urgently when Hodge had drifted off to the back of the room to retrieve an ointment from a cabinet.

"Yes," Alec responded.

"And?" Isabelle pressed when he didn't elaborate.

"Magnus was not there."

"You didn't wait for him?"

"There was no need to. Why would I have?" Alec sulked. Isabelle straightened up, a dangerous fire kindling in her intelligent eyes, and a determined frown settling between her eyebrows.

"I am going to fetch him," she declared.

"Why? What in the name of the Angel can Magnus possibly do to cure this? A kiss isn't going to solve this injury," Alec hissed in response.

"He will cure it, trust me. I just know it."

Alec watched with gritted teeth as she strode out of the chamber.

 _Remember to let me know if you'd be interested in reading a chapter from Magnus's POV! :] Thanks for reading!_


	8. Blue Lace

_Since the response to my question of having a chapter in Magnus's POV was completely positive I thought I might as well try... I hope it's satisfactory ;)_

 _And wah! An update within a week. Yup! Thank you so much for sticking with me throughout all of this. Ugh I should be a more responsible mum to this story T.T_

 _Thanks for reading/reviewing/faving/following~ :3_

 _Beta-ed by JelloDVDs._

 **[MAGNUS'S POV]**

* * *

The sunlight attacked his retinas like ferocious snakes when he dared to open his eyes ever so slightly. Magnus let out a groan as he massaged his temples and then pinched the bridge of his nose. The silk sheets were cool against his flushed skin, and his long limbs were sprawled out carelessly over the large bed. Long nails were slowly combing through his hair, the touch deceivingly tender.

"You should seek a kinder mistress," she said softly, and her warm flesh was a welcome addition as she pressed herself up against his side.

"Myrmeïs is kind enough," Magnus responded, knowing what Camille was hinting at. "And not my mistress. It has more important things to do than to feed itself on the pleasures of the flesh."

"Fortunately. That thing is absolutely hideous."

"Knowledge and skill are more important than beauty, darling," Magnus reminded her.

"The offer still stands," Camille shot back.

"I'm not interested." The last thing he wanted was to join Camille's cult of soul-sucking, brainless individuals. He never said that to her face, though. She wasn't very nice when she got angry, and Magnus preferred his face without any unnecessary scratches.

"You can't even open your eyes anymore. It stole everything from you," Camille scoffed.

"How long was I gone for?" he asked.

"Not too long," Camille replied, avoiding his question.

"Suspicious. I suppose I should go in search of a more credible source." He never got off the bed, though. Camille's leg was around his waist, pinning him to the soft mattress.

"Three days, two nights," Camille conceded.

"Not that long," Magnus mused, and he found the strength inside of him to open his eyes. His vision was blurry at first but gradually cleared as he blinked rapidly. Camille was lying next to him, naked, her long, golden hair framing her face as her cold, green eyes studied Magnus's face. Her skin was pale yet warm, and her entire body was inviting. It always was, for the right amount of monetary compensation or enough collateral. In Magnus's case, it was mostly just protection. Magnus knew a lot about Camille; they went back quite a ways, and such a prolonged relationship couldn't persist without the inevitable sharing of deep secrets.

Naturally, there was also the time that they had been lovers, which had given Magnus a more special place in Camille's list of clients. There was mutual attraction there, and even now it still sparked in the air like a flame that ought to be kindled. Magnus didn't give in, though. He knew what she was like, he had enough experience with her cunning manners. Whatever attraction or affection he had once felt for her was now buried deeply within his being.

"You missed me," he said with a lazy smile.

"I did. It is a lot less fascinating without you prancing about like you own the place. Sure, my girls are fun, but I prefer your harsher angles, your toned muscles, and primarily what you're hiding under here." She reached out and pressed the palm of her hand against his groin, the soft, expensive wool of his breeches the only thing separating skin from skin.

Magnus chuckled at how frank she was, and let her kiss him when she leant in to do so. She was a good kisser, with nice, plump lips and a cheeky tongue.

"Camille," Magnus said when the kiss was broken and now lay as a cherished memory between them. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek before allowing his fingers to disappear into her hair, the blond ringlets soft underneath his touch as he massaged her scalp. "Did anyone come to visit me?"

Her eyes opened again; she had just begun to be comfortable. Magnus cursed inwardly at the sudden return of her alertness. Camille was a lot easier to deal with when she was content or otherwise preoccupied.

She pushed his hand away and sat up a little. The nipples of her beautiful, round breasts were hard, as they always got when she was excited, and Magnus was more than familiar with the wetness that had undoubtedly settled between her thighs. His body yearned for her loving touch and soft flesh, but his mind did not.

"Just your usual. I directed them to Dirwin. They didn't seem too terribly disappointed when they left. The worst that will happen is that you have to work a tad harder next time, just to soothe their wounded pride. Dirwin is a good boy and he tries very hard, but he is just a mortal, and nowhere near as magical as you are."

"You know what I am talking about," Magnus said flatly. Camille sighed.

"Twice," she admitted, pulling her long hair over her left shoulder. She rested a hand on Magnus's chest. "First, on the day that you left. Your pretty boy came by. He looked quite flustered. I took him into here with the thought of playing with him, entertaining him a little. Squeeze the information out of him that you seem intent to hide from me."

Magnus tensed. Alexander had been here? On the day that he left? That was quite unusual. They had spent the majority of the night together before Alec had suddenly decided that he needed to leave. Magnus suddenly got the feeling that something might have happened during that ride back to the castle. But if something had, then why would Alexander have returned to the brothel, and, more importantly, to him?

"And?" Magnus pressed, when it was clear Camille wasn't going to elaborate on this. He didn't like giving into her games, but this was too important to allow her to keep it from him, and she knew it. Her lips curled up into a mischievous smile as she traced up and down his abdomen with her fingertips.

"He didn't play along. He just looked miserable. Such a boring thing, he is. Nothing I did got him even a little distracted."

"Don't take it personally," Magnus responded, although everything in his tone told her that it would be nice if she did. "He's not into women."

"I know. Usually I can seduce them, though. Especially those young ones. Those untainted virgins."

"You must be losing your touch, then," Magnus jabbed. Camille narrowed her eyes at him and dug her fingers into the gaps between his ribs. Magnus gasped as her nails scratched his caramel skin before grabbing her arm forcefully and removing her touch from his body.

"Don't insult me," she hissed.

"He came twice?" he asked her, and she turned her face away.

"No. There's someone in your chambers right now. She was persistent, neither wanted to accept you weren't there nor leave."

"Who is it?"

"A woman. Beautiful bone structure and amazing skin, nice hair and extremely pretty. She could make a lot of money, here. She would be an exotic attraction, high class and reserved for only the best. She is a stubborn, feisty one though. Definitely not for everyone," Camille mused. "Although some men prefer to conquer their lay before they plant their cocks between the girl's thighs. Others prefer to play with someone else's interest. They know they have them and yet they are unwilling to make a move."

"Recalling fond memories, darling?" Magnus responded with a humourless smile. "Who is she?"

"How would I know? All I can tell you is that she is higher nobility."

Magnus sat up and waited for a few breaths as the entire world started turning around him. He could hear Camille chuckle but forced himself not to be affected by her mockery. He managed to find his feet and walk over to the door with at least a shred of his dignity intact.

"It is a pity," Camille said from her place on the bed. Magnus looked over his shoulder, and his eyes caused Camille to crinkle her nose in disgust. He hid them. "You have no clue what you are missing out on." Magnus stepped out of the chamber just as Camille spread her legs. Her laughter followed him down the corridor as he hurried toward his own chambers. He knew exactly what he was missing out on, and he could very well do without it.

"There you are," a smooth voice said when he opened the door to his chambers. Camille hadn't lied, although her words had most definitely also not entirely done this young woman justice; she was absolutely gorgeous. She had pale skin and long, dark hair that had been tamed into an elegant, complicated braid on the back of her head. She was wearing a simple red gown that hugged her breasts and flowed down from her waist, showing off her curves. Her red lips were curled up into a smile that was more like a grimace. She didn't seem particularly happy to see him. She was holding onto a dagger, which she spun effortlessly between her long, agile fingers. Magnus didn't need much help to imagine that dagger dug firmly into his eye socket. She seemed quite capable of such a brutish task if he displeased her.

"Hello," Magnus said carefully, closing the door behind him. His studying of her features had given him some important insight. He recognised the facial shape, the high, pronounced cheekbones. She resembled Alexander in many ways, although she did not have his eyes. Her eyes were a dark brown that was nearly black, gleaming dangerously in the sunlight. "Alexander's sister?"

"How did you know?" she asked, seeming a little taken aback.

"The bone structure. You have the same lovely face," Magnus responded. His smoothness didn't seem to win him much favour, though. Instead, the woman's eyes simply narrowed and she put her hands on her hips. Magnus crossed the chamber and carefully lowered himself onto his bed. The mattress dipped underneath his weight and he wanted nothing more than to fall back onto it and sleep for a small eternity. Alec's sister didn't look like she was going to permit such slacking, though.

"Do not try to flatter me. It won't work," she grumbled.

"I think it will. You do have a beautiful figure, and I love your eyes. So mysterious. I am quite certain most girls are jealous of your hair. It truly does look quite fantastic," Magnus replied. She fought to keep a smile off her face, and Magnus prided himself on this small victory.

"I can see why Alec likes you. Such high praise you must give him."

"So you know?" Magnus asked cautiously.

Isabelle chuckled. "Of course. I am his sister. It is my duty to know such things. Plus, the Angel knows he would never share such information on his own. He is a private creature, my dear brother."

Magnus liked this woman. She was a strong, independent force that had dominated the place like an organised natural disaster. She didn't need anyone to look out for her, and she was as fond of Alec as Magnus was, albeit for completely different reasons. Magnus was glad Alec at least had one thoughtful, supporting individual in his family. He knew the Lightwoods, he had met plenty of them. He didn't hold them in very high regard, but this new generation surprised him with their progressiveness and openness.

"So, darling," Magnus said, winking at her. "What is your name? I have never quite managed to catch it."

"Isabelle." She held her hand out for Magnus and Magnus took it, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. Had the hand belonged to her brother, he would have been a little more daring and a tad cheekier.

"A beautiful name. Now, please do not take any offence, but what do I have to thank for this wonderful visit?"

It was at least mildly concerning; at first, Alexander had shown up on the same day of a prior visit, and now his relentless sister had come to track him down. Magnus told himself to stay logical, and that certainly nothing too terrible could have happened. If it had, then what business could both siblings possibly have with him? Plus, Isabelle didn't seem too particularly aggravated, although there was a persistent nervousness in the soft lines on her face, which had harshened as she gritted her teeth and furrowed her eyebrows.

"You have to help Alec," Isabelle told him.

Magnus eyed her apprehensively. "With what?" he inquired carefully.

"On the way back from the brothel two or so days ago, he was attacked by a creature of demonic origin. He has a wound on his thigh that has started to rot and fester."

"Caused by demon venom?" Magnus said, rising from his bed as adrenaline rushed through his veins. Demon wounds were very serious injuries and had to be treated promptly. Allowing them to persist for longer than a day was dangerous, and the knowledge that Alexander had been nursing such a severe complications for multiple days now was deeply concerning.

"Yes," Isabelle responded, and she grinned in triumph. "You know what to do against those, do you not?" Her tone was knowing, and Magnus suddenly paused in his tracks. He had opened his cabinet and begun to extract certain ingredients when she reminded him that his behaviour was nothing short of suspicious. He wasn't supposed to know about demon venom, let alone how to treat it. He was merely a simple prostitute.

He slowly put down the jar of slugs he had just retrieved from the cabinet. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," Isabelle replied with a shrug. She spun the dagger between her fingers before slipping it into her sleeve, where it disappeared behind a layer of intricate lace and expensive cloth.

"Perhaps," Magnus conceded. "But also an educated one. How?"

"I like to consider myself broadly orientated and interested," Isabelle started. "It was a while ago that I read a scroll that explained the whims of warlocks. It told me how, just after magic had been banned from the very soil we are currently standing on, warlocks migrated into Alicante by masking themselves as prostitutes. This road was more commonly chosen by men because there was less competition, and they were often the most willing to take such a gamble. This allowed warlocks to make small fortunes by selling clandestine practices and serving the people illegally and for high rates."

"They do prefer to be paid handsomely."

"You prefer to be paid handsomely," Isabelle corrected him, knowingly and confidently.

"Only in certain situations," Magnus admitted. "Or to protect my identity. But I am quite certain this will stay between us, will it not?" The pleasant tone of his voice did little to mask his warning, and Isabelle nodded gravely. She understood the danger Magnus was in and comprehended what revealing his true identity could mean for him. Certain death, for example.

Isabelle sat down on his bed as Magnus turned around and retrieved more dusty jars filled with exotic ingredients. It wasn't before long that he heard purring and a tiny feline started weaving itself around his legs. He opened one of the jars and dropped a spider onto the floor. Chairman Meow let out a delighted prrt and started to chase after the insect as it tried to get away. Isabelle was watching them silently from the bed. Magnus sighed and snapped his fingers. Blue magic poured out of his body, causing his skin to tingle and his arm to grow cold, as it pooled in the air in front of him. He directed the energy with some lazy flicks of his fingers, and soon enough the entire table came alive with a potion that brewed itself.

He looked up at Isabelle, and grinned when he saw her awestruck expression. She met his gaze and gasped.

"Never seen magic before, darling?" Magnus asked pleasantly, and Isabelle laughed and shook her head. They then stayed silent as Magnus finished his concoction and poured the steaming ointment into a jar. It smelt sharp like ginger and vanilla, and looked like any regular ointment. He closed the jars manually and put them back on their respectful places in the cabinet. He could feel the magic drumming through his body, every fibre of his being throbbing in unison as the magic spread through him. Unleashing such a large amount could be dangerous, especially considering the duress he had been under while staying with Myrmeïs, but Alec was worth the risk. His magical reserves could be replenished, no matter how exhausted they were, but there was only one Alexander.

"Are you ready?" he asked Isabelle, turning around with a grin. He blinked and covered up his eyes, and Isabelle rose from the bed.

"Of course," she said, giving Chairman Meow, who had settled on the bed next to her, a pat on the head. He purred and leant into her touch, his green eyes narrowed slightly in pleasure. "Is the cat a magical being too?"

"Chairman? Oh no," Magnus laughed. "He's just a stray I took with me from Ardúk. Nothing special about him, aside from his extremely soft fur."

Magnus closed the cabinet and changed his clothes into something more presentable to wear in a castle with a snap of his fingers. He rapped his knuckles against the wood of his cabinet, his blue magic sparking across the surface, before opening the doors. It now showed a plunge into darkness. Magnus put the jar into his messenger bag and gestured for Isabelle to follow him.

"A secret passage?" Isabelle guessed, raising her eyebrows. "Fancy."

Magnus entered the passage first, following the narrow set of steps down into the underground. Magnus brought his magic to his fingertips and allowed it to kindle like a flame would. The magic lit up the tunnel as Isabelle closed the heavy mahogany doors of the closet behind them. They heard the giggling of the girls and sounds of flesh on flesh as they made their way down the narrow stairs, and once they were finally in the tunnel, Isabelle commented about the bad maintenance. They sunk ankle deep into mud immediately.

"It's the fastest way," Magnus assured her, and she followed him as they walked through the tunnel system.

"You know, in the tales this is always when the damsel gets murdered," Isabelle commented off-handedly.

"Is this a warning to watch my back?" Magnus teased, looking over his shoulder. His eyes gleamed like a cat's in the sheen of his blue light.

"Definitely," Isabelle responded coolly. "I have a mean right hook. You do not want it to become acquainted with your jaw."

"You might be right about that. I do prefer a more… tender touch," Magnus teased.

"What do you see in my brother?"

"He is extremely handsome. I have had plenty of time to study him before I made a move."

"Very unspecific," Isabelle criticised.

"What can I say? The heart wants what it wants," Magnus responded as he opened a door. They were met with the restless barking and growling of hunting dogs. "Great. I hate hounds."

"Have you done this before, Mr. Warlock?" Isabelle asked as she followed him out into the dungeons. She nearly hit her head on the low door frame.

"Perhaps," Magnus responded with a grin.


	9. White Linen

_Waahhhh! Thank you guys so much for all the love I've been getting! I feel so spoiled! *pats reviews and followers and favourites lovingly* Yup yup~ :3 So, here you have it, another ''quick'' update! (Fast for me, anyway... T^T)_

 _Let me know what you think! (Also, it's time to move this story along. I'm running out of fabrics for the chapter titles... ugh.)_

 _Beta-ed by JelloDVDs~ :3_

 **[ALEC'S POV]**

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The sun was starting to set. The multi-coloured rooftops of Alicante blazed yellow as the gentle sun rays caressed them in a loving farewell. The Narrow Sea glistened in the distance, and small dots that were undoubtedly fat-bellied merchant ships glided along the gentle waves. There was a slight breeze, an indication that the long summer was slowly coming to an end. Alec wasn't very sad about that; summer brought them sickness and death, stench and rotting, whereas the winter was often gentler. At least, it was for the people huddled together in the crowded streets of Alicante. He was aware that winter was man's worst enemy up in the north, where the population continued to dwindle due to the progressively harsher winters they had gotten to endure the past few decades.

Idris had been changing for a long time. The summers were becoming drier and hotter and the winters were becoming wetter and colder, and even though the people massively flocked to the temples and cathedrals that had been erected in favour of the Angel, their praying didn't lighten the burden that was placed upon the kingdom. In retrospect, perhaps the sudden demonic activity had been a long time coming. The land Idris was founded on used to be the home to a plethora of magical creatures; magic ran in the veins of the earth, and the idea of this very same magical force taking back the land it had been chased away from was not that far-fetched.

Alec sighed, closed his eyes and forced himself to think about different things. Unsurprisingly, his mind immediately focused on the people who he had grown up with. He thought about Jace and his stubbornness and his dedication to his people. It was admirable and he truly did try to better the world to the maximum of his capabilities, but his arrogance as well as Maryse's strict supervision posed many obstacles in his governing. Still, Jace was surpassing anyone's expectations. The boy who had barely survived the slaughtering that had befallen his parents had grown into a man that could now, albeit hesitantly, be called a king.

He then thought about Isabelle, his strong-willed, fiery sister. Her determination to fix Alec, even though he was beyond healing.

His parents. He didn't like to think about them for prolonged periods of time. How unfair they had always been, how passive, when it came down to their children. It had always only been Jace that mattered. Jace, the Golden King, the promised prince. Jace and Max, when the young boy had still been with them.

Alec sighed, running his fingers over the rough stone of the windowsill. He stared at the royal garden that stretched out below him, its expanse impressive and its floral population beautiful, aromatic and vibrant. Even though he was on the second floor of the castle, high above the ground, he swore he could smell the flowers and herbs that grew and flourished below.

"Alec, here you are." Alec looked up to see his sister rushing toward him. The bottom of her gown was splattered with mud and she looked slightly bewildered. "You have to come with me." Alec straightened up from where he had been leaning on the stone.

"I can't, Isabelle," Alec told her, gesturing lamely to Jace's chambers somewhere down the golden corridor. "I have to be there for Jace."

"He can wait."

"Izzy—"

"He doesn't even need you. Only the Angel knows what he is doing in there right now. Well, the Angel and Clary, maybe."

"Please do not remind me," Alec responded with a wince.

"Kidding aside, Alec, shush and listen to me," Isabelle told him sternly. Alec rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Come with me. Do it for me."

"Come where?" Alec responded apprehensively.

"Just trust me. Now, come." When Alec still didn't seem very inclined to move, she cleared her throat and sent him a sad look. "I have already lost one brother," she said. "I'm not going to lose another."

"Don't bring Max into this," Alec told her firmly, but she shook her head, dismissing his demand.

"I will. If that is what is necessary to make you see reason." She tugged on his arm, and he gave in, allowing her to drag her in whatever direction she had in mind. Not soon after, he realised that she was dragging him along to his own chambers. A sense of nervousness and mild dread started to form in his stomach. Magnus, he remembered. She had gone to see Magnus. All of a sudden, he no longer quite knew how to breathe.

Isabelle opened the door to his chambers and pushed him into the room. She herself stayed in the corridor, unwilling to budge and enter after him.

"Give him a chance," she whispered before closing the door. Alec turned around the face the expanse of his chambers, his limbs alive with anxiety, while, at the same time, his feet felt like they were shackled to the floor.

He was there. Magnus was there, in front of his window. His soft leather boots and the underside of his trousers were covered in mud, and there was a certain exhaustion in his posture that Alec had never seen there before.

Even so, Alec's breath caught in his throat as he studied the man's back, and the way the sunlight streaming in from the crack between the shutters caused him to light up. His dark hair was ablaze with a reddish gold and he was outlined starkly in a similar glow. The air around him almost seemed to shimmer with the intensity of his presence. It was hard to grasp that Magnus existed outside of the brothel, outside of a place that had a bed with sheets made of silk and that smelt like sandalwood and other exotic fragrances. Seeing Magnus here in an environment as bland and civil as his own chambers was almost an insult to Magnus's being.

"Good day, Alexander," Magnus said pleasantly, softly, as he spun around. He straightened his back, and his movements were graceful as he approached Alec. Magnus kissed Alec's knuckles one by one, before looking up and licking his own lips with his tongue. He grinned as he let go of Alec's hand. All the while, Alec tried to convince himself that Magnus did care about him. Magnus had come all the way here because his sister had asked him to, after all. Alec did not fully understand why that was the case in the first place, though; there was undoubtedly very little Magnus could do against the entire situation, aside from providing Alec with his wonderful company.

"Magnus," Alec managed to croak out, before clearing his throat and trying again. "Magnus."

"How are you feeling?" Magnus asked. Alec's eyelids fluttered closed as Magnus's hand cupped his cheek. He found himself leaning into the touch involuntarily. Alec inhaled in order to answer, but Magnus interrupted his attempt before he had even gotten the chance to utter a single word. "If your answer is a lie, then please spare me the effort of sighing and rolling my eyes."

Alec let out a breathless chuckle. "Should I stay silent, then?"

"Not necessarily. But this is a truth-only zone, remember that."

"Since when?" Alec teased, and Magnus waved his question away with a flick of his long, graceful fingers.

"Since now. I just told you, didn't I?"

"Why are you here, Magnus?" Alec asked, more seriously.

"Well, had we been girls on the cusp of womanhood, we would have gathered in front of a fire in the great hall and gossiped about how extremely attractive the nobles in the courtyard were. Or our king, whomever would hold more of your fancy. I am quite accommodating, you will find."

"But this is not the case," Alec reminded Magnus.

"Sadly. Have you never dreamt of being a girl on the cusp of womanhood? Looking forward to the future, where a handsome young man of higher nobility will attempt to court you? With flowers braided into your hair and a near-continuous blush that has settled over your high cheekbones?"

"I am starting to regret talking to you."

"Ah, I see my dreams are not reciprocated. Sad," Magnus said, shaking his head with a sigh. "However, I think we both know what I am here for. I do not want to startle you, Alexander, but I need you to show me the wound." Despite Magnus's soft voice, Alec's body tensed up entirely and he found himself flinching away from Magnus's tender touch. Magnus didn't chase after his cheek, instead he just allowed his hand to fall by his side.

"Why?" Alec said, and it came out harsher than he had intended. An unreadable emotion flickered through Magnus's green eyes, and Alec wanted to swallow everything he had said so far. Instead, he continued more kindly, albeit equally as frustrated. "What could you possibly do to heal it?"

"At least you are not denying you have a wound. I would call that progress," Magnus mused. "And don't dismiss me that easily."

After a few moments that were spent entirely in silence, Alec resigned himself to his fate. "Turn around."

Magnus laughed in surprise. "What?"

"Turn around. Please."

"Whatever makes the lord more comfortable," Magnus conceded with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Although I would like to remind you that I have seen all of it before. It is a little late for modesty, would you not agree? Or perhaps it is never too late for modesty, and it simply just has very inconvenient timing."

Alec rolled his eyes as he waited for Magnus to turn around and cross the chamber to stand next to the window again. He didn't turn around, however; instead, he just covered his eyes with his long fingers and leant into the wall. Alec sighed in frustration but recognised that this was most likely going to be the best he was going to get. He sat down on the edge of his bed and started to unlace his boots before removing them and putting them neatly beside the bed. His soft, wool breeches followed shortly after.

"Are you done?" Magnus asked, and Alec knew he was grinning; he could hear the amusement in Magnus's voice.

"Yes," Alec replied. Magnus's soft footsteps approached the bed before he gracefully lowered himself on the sheets next to Alec. His hand immediately landed on Alec's bare, unwounded, thigh, and Alec tensed. Magnus trailed his hand up Alec's body before intertwining their fingers and resting their joined hands in his own lap. His free hand showed Alec a jar that held a cream-coloured ointment, his movements graceful and playful as he twirled the jar around in his fingers. Condensation had formed on the insulated glass, and Magnus's fast, tender touches made it clear that the contents were still uncomfortably hot.

"It might burn a little bit," Magnus warned, and the relaxation Alec had just found immediately disappeared from his body.

"Is that going to do it? An ointment?" Alec asked, eyeing the jar suspiciously. Magnus let go of his hand and unscrewed the lid. The metal squeaked as it was removed from the jar, and the smells of ginger and vanilla escaped from their previous confinement, as well as steam.

"Yes," Magnus responded, before grabbing Alec's hand again and squeezing it. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of Alec's hand. "Lie down, please." Alec eventually gave in, and Magnus's expression remained neutral when he finally got a proper look of the festering wound. "Just close your eyes, Alexander. Like I said, this might hurt." Alec's eyelids fluttered shut and several breaths later he could feel Magnus's fingers on his thigh. They just scouted the skin, prodding gently at the rash that had formed around the pieces of skin that had been bitten away completely, before his touch disappeared briefly.

When his fingers returned they were coated in the ointment. The application of the medication burnt intensely, and Alec hissed as the pain shot through his body. However, the sensation was quickly replaced by a buzzing that ran throughout his entire being and seemed to hum in his veins. He gasped as the pain he had been dealing with for the past couple of days was replaced with a feeling unlike he had ever experienced before.

"That should do it," Magnus stated softly, and the sensation slowly disappeared along with Magnus's gentle fingers. When Alec trusted himself to open his eyes again, he could see Magnus, his eyes closed and the fatigue clearly visible in the way he held himself and the appearance of gentle lines on his face. Alec sat up, and ran his hand over his thigh in wonder. The skin was smooth, the wound and the stench gone like they had never existed in the first place. Then, he reached out and grabbed Magnus's hand. It was oddly cold to the touch, and his fingertips were pale in comparison to his usual caramel complexion. He held onto it more tightly.

"Thanks, Magnus. I have no clue how I could ever repay you," Alec said softly as he pressed a daring kiss to Magnus's temple.

"You do not have to. The fact that you are still alive is more than I could ever ask for," Magnus responded earnestly. "Demon wounds are not injuries that should be taken lightly. Understand?"

"Yes," Alec responded softly.

Magnus carefully slid his hand out of Alec's and put the lid back on the jar of ointment before handing it to him. It was still hot, although with some of its contents now gone, it was more like a comfortable warmth that originated from the glass. His usual flourish wasn't there. "Keep it, in case something like this happens again."

"Does it work on animals?" Alec asked sheepishly as he put the jar beside his bed.

"Your horse?" Magnus guessed, and Alec nodded. "Yes, it should be fine. Now, I should probably start going. It is getting late, and I could sleep for a decade."

Alec grabbed Magnus's arm before he could rise from the bed. "Don't leave," he pleaded softly. "Just stay. You are exhausted, it is much safer this way. I do not want you to travel back alone this late."

Magnus looked at him with a calculating glint to his beautiful eyes. They shimmered almost extraordinarily. Certainly that was a trick of the evening sun, which was now reaching into the room with its last, desperate rays of light.

"If you are certain?" Magnus asked as he slowly sat back down on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight. In response to his inquiry, Alec cupped Magnus's face with both his hands and brought their lips together. The kiss was lazy and almost shy, until Magnus seemed to accept his offer and pressed against Alec's mouth with a sense of urgency. Alec's lips parted readily, and Magnus took the opportunity greedily. At some point, Alec had fallen back on the mattress and Magnus was on top of him, his body warm against Alec's.

When they finally broke apart, both of them panting, Alec licked his lips and swallowed loudly. "You should sleep," he said, and Magnus raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Today must have been exhausting for you."

"Sleep can wait," Magnus responded, before leaning down to nibble softly on the skin of Alec's neck.

"Are you hungry, then?" Alec asked, and Magnus sighed against his skin. The stream of air against the wetness Magnus's tongue had left behind caused a shiver to run down Alec's spine.

"Perhaps," Magnus conceded, rolling off of Alec after giving him a final kiss. He didn't quite look disappointed, but it was close.

Alec pecked Magnus on his nose, promised he would be back and pulled on his breeches and boots again. He looked over his shoulder before leaving the room, closed the door behind him and quickly made his way down the corridor. He knew it was a stupid thing of him to do, to run away from a situation like that. Even so, he couldn't help it. He wanted Magnus to feel comfortable and to make sure all his needs were met, and he also needed a walk in order to calm his racing thoughts and the conflicting emotions that were running through him.

He knew what he wanted to do. To Magnus and with Magnus. And the fact that he would be able to agree so readily with something like that terrified him. Sure, he did not have much reason to doubt Magnus's affection for him anymore. Actually being together outside a setting that was completely focused on the trade of sex for monetary compensation created a sense of validity and verification. Magnus did not just like him because he was a prostitute and Alec was from a wealthy family. There was real attraction between them, Alec had tentatively allowed himself to believe. Even though the concept was extremely foreign to him, he had allowed himself to hope. And that progression was absolutely terrifying.

Could he go that far with Magnus without it affecting him completely? What would it change about his daily life? Sure, he had done other things with Magnus and in his past, but never to the extent to which he wanted it now. He had the constricting feeling that this would seal the deal. That after that, he would not be able to return to his normal self. He recognised how stupid those feelings were, and yet they fought a battle of wills inside of him.

He knew Isabelle would make him see reason, would tell him that his worries were entirely ungrounded. He knew she would encourage him to follow his desires, and as he proceeded to ponder over the situation on his way to the kitchens, he finally came to a conclusion.

Fuelled by newly acquired energy, he gathered an evening meal from the kitchens and returned to his chambers. Fortunately, he didn't run into anyone who showed too much curiosity toward Alec's current whereabouts.

When he entered his chambers again, it was clear Magnus had made himself at home. He was lying, completely naked, on top of Alec's sheets, and looked up with a warm smile when Alec finally made an appearance again.

"Ah, so you did not just leave me here to fend for myself? I was starting to worry," Magnus joked as he sat up, and Alec had to do a conscious effort to keep his eyes on Magnus's face. "You do not mind if I sleep naked, do you? It is so much comfortable that way. Especially with such soft sheets."

"No," Alec practically choked out, before he set the platter on the bed. It had a generous chunk of ripened yellow cheese as well as a softer, whiter one, freshly-baked bread that was still warm to the touch, and some spiced sausage that had been cut up in more convenient pieces.

Magnus seemed to approve of the selection; he accepted a piece of bread and cheese Alec handed him and made sure to let Alec know how much he appreciated it. Although the moan that resounded when he bit into the bread might have been a tad exaggerated. "Castle made cheese," he stated. "Nothing is quite as fine. It would be so much better if there was some wine to help this on its journey downward, but alas. I scouted the room and there is nothing. And here I was, thinking that I had successfully converted you."

"Not yet," Alec joked along.

"It is a pity," Magnus sighed dramatically.

They finished the food while engaged in easy conversation. Alec put the nearly empty platter away on the floor once they were done, and it was then that Magnus decided to reacquaint his lips with the skin of Alec's neck. Alec gasped when he gently nibbled on the sensitive area.

"You are wearing too many clothes, Alexander." Alec couldn't help but agree; it was becoming uncomfortably warm. He rose from the bed and first lit the candles by his bedside and shoved the bolt in place to lock the door. He partially closed the shutters and then shed his clothes under the approving gaze of Magnus, who had stretched out seductively across the bed. He wasn't afraid nor shy to show his excitement, although Alec was a lot more self-conscious as his last layers of coverage slid down his body. He inhaled deeply before climbing into bed next to Magnus, his lips finding Magnus's waiting ones.

Magnus wasted no time as he rolled on top of Alec, their arousals grinding together and causing them both to moan at the sudden gain of friction. Magnus's lips attached themselves to Alec's jaw and his neck, and he proceeded to leave a trail of licks, kisses and the occasional nibble down Alec's body.

"Magnus," Alec sighed as he tangled his fingers through Magnus's hair and gently guided his head back up. Their lips met in a fiery, hungry kiss. They broke apart. His lungs felt like they were on fire, and the same could be said about the rest of his body. He felt alive, the sensations so much more intense than they had been back in the brothel. That had been practice, this was the real thing. Right here, in Alec's bed, in the chamber he had occupied for at least a dozen years now.

Magnus's hand slid between their bodies and grabbed their throbbing erections together, causing them both to moan in unison as Magnus started moving against Alec's body. The friction was wonderful, and in their shared passion and exhaustion it did not take long for both of them to climax. Their kisses turned more lazy after that, and Magnus eventually rolled off of Alec's body. Alec rose from the bed to soak a cloth in the water basin near his door, cleaned up the mess that was drying up on his own stomach and then did the same to Magnus, who had happily sunk into the mattress.

When Alec joined him, Magnus immediately snuggled up next to him. His body felt amazing against Alec's, his close proximity and warmth quickly easing Alec into a state of comfort and relaxation.

"Thanks, Magnus," he whispered to the silence of the room, before licking his fingers and extinguishing the candles next to his bed.

"For what?" Magnus purred, his lips latching onto Alec's collar bone, leaving a path of lazy kisses.

"Everything," Alec responded. Magnus chuckled, and it wasn't long before his breathing evened out, the exhaustion finally getting to him. Alec just stared at his ceiling in the dark for a while longer, before he murmured something that he perhaps shouldn't say to the night air. Magnus didn't respond, and instead just slept peacefully next to him.


	10. Boilt Leather

_Thank you guys so much for your (ongoing) support! We surpassed 50 reviews! I'm so happy and proud! And this is the tenth chapter already... finally left the single digits behind! Anyway, enjoy!_

 _Beta-ed by JelloDVDs~ :]_

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The Great Hall spread out before Alec in all its golden glory. The eagle banners of House Herondale graced the walls, the blazing gold shimmering in the light, and the ornaments above the open hearths were covered in gold leaf. Sunlight streamed into the hall from the high windows, creating interesting shadows as it collided with the rows of tables and benches that covered the distance between the main entrance and the royal throne upon its dais at the back. Groups of women were huddled around the hearths, their skilful hands occupied with needle and thread or yarn as they sewed, crocheted and knitted while talking with each other in hushed voices.

Other hearths were currently occupied by musicians, strumming away merrily at their harps or polishing the metal and wood of their flutes as they revised or composed songs, creating tales of Jonathan the First and Mandel the Warrior. There were children too, being taught how to read and write by teachers with hunched backs and patient smiles.

Alec passed them on his way to the back of the Hall, nodding at the teachers who looked up at him, and at the young ladies who hid their giggles behind dainty, gloved hands. They were pretty enough, but they could never rival the wild beauty of his sister, or the gorgeous handsomeness of Magnus.

"Magnus," Alec whispered to himself, just to taste the name on his lips. It had been a while since he had last seen the tall man. He hadn't had a chance to visit Magnus in the brothel after the night they had spent together in gentle passion and urgent need.

"You should talk to Jace about creating a royal brothel on the premises. I think I could get used to living here," Magnus had joked in the morning, the golden sunlight causing his caramel skin to glisten and the golden flecks in his eyes to dance.

Alec cut some soft cheese and handed it to Magnus, who took it happily. He'd expressed his appreciation for the castle's fine cheeses multiple times, and Alec had tried to bring him a wider variety to break their fasts.

"That sounds like a terrible idea," he had informed Magnus with a snort.

"A man is entitled to his dreams." Magnus had reached over and placed a hungry kiss on Alec's lips. He tasted like cheese and sweet wine, and he smelt of sex and warm sandalwood, a delicious combination. Magnus had nipped his neck playfully before retreating, his eyes narrowed in pleasure as he regarded Alec's flushed cheeks. "Plus, there is something sinfully delightful about knowing you are around the corner at all times."

"Magnus-" Alec had started, but he never got to finish his sentence as Magnus pushed him over onto the mattress and locked their lips in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.

Magnus had left later that day while Alec was attending a small council meeting. Alec had been terribly disappointed to return to his chambers to find them empty, with nothing but the crinkled sheets and the left-over wisps of Magnus's scent to accompany him, and to remind him that the events had actually occurred in the first place.

Alec had become busy after that; the lockdown was lifted and the castle flooded with members of nobility that had travelled south to attend the festivities that were soon to commence. A new year was around the corner, and that meant that the annual celebration dedicated to the king was soon to happen as well. Alec hated this particular feast with a passion. Not only did it pose countless threats to Jace's safety, Alec was also expected to participate in several of the tournaments that were being organised.

Fortunately, Magnus's ointment had succeeded in completely healing Arrow's wounded leg, and the mare had recovered marvellously.

"It's a miracle, boy," the master of horse had called out as he gave Alec a sturdy pat on the back. Alec had just grinned in relief.

"Brother," Isabelle greeted him as Alec approached the hearth she was sitting at, her smile kind as she patted the empty spot on the bench next to her. Lydia smiled sweetly at him too, her nimble fingers busy with taming his sister's black hair into an intricate braid that looped around the back of her head. "Is something wrong?"

"I am just making sure you are still brimming with excitement," Alec responded, sympathy clearly audible in his voice. While Isabelle had pretended to be excited about Meliorn's return, Alec had eventually realised that her quiet demeanour had more to do with her not knowing how to deal with the situation.

Isabelle's eyes seemed to grow darker as she stared at the fire blazing lowly in the hearth. "Always," she said with a sad smile. "I am not entirely sure what our lady mother would like me to do. On one hand, she despised the Seelie Court and everyone who descends from it, but on the other hand, we are quite desperate for something that will strengthen our alliance with the Seelie knights. For whatever reason, it seems that no matter the situation, I cannot ever do anything right."

"It is not on you to strengthen the alliance with the Seelies, Izzy," Alec reminded her. Isabelle grabbed his hand and squeezed it firmly.

"I know," Isabelle replied. "There would not have been an issue if the council had taken their opinions into consideration earlier, instead of handing more power to the Clave."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Lydia added, squeezing Isabelle's shoulder softly. "Otherwise we'll just make you disappear at the most fortunate times. Or I can even take you home with me to the Chicog. You will love it there." Isabelle smiled at the huntress, placing her other hand over Lydia's. The two of them were surprisingly close, especially since they did not seem to like each other when Lydia first attended the court. Her family, House Branwell, owned the fertile lands of the Chicog, which were in the river lands. It was said to be an extremely beautiful place; idyllic in its silence, and stunning in its greenery.

Lydia had once promised to bring Alec there, before Alec had promised himself to the King's Guard. Now, the offer still stood, but in a different light, and for different reasons.

"That would be wonderful, Lydia," Alec said with a nod.

"Would your mother be all right with bringing a Lightwood there?" Isabelle asked, and Lydia shrugged.

"After a while, potentially. She is mellower than she used to be. Although that doesn't say much." Lady Charlotte Branwell ruled the Chicog with an iron fist, it was well known. Her reputation was similar to that of Maryse Lightwood, but despite the many traits they shared, Lady Branwell and Maryse had never gotten along.

"We have too much in common," Isabelle laughed softly. They shared a look that Alec couldn't read, and he wondered how deep that connection went exactly, before shaking the thought from his mind. His sister would never engage in those things, after all.

"Ser Lightwood," a gruff voice sounded behind them. Alec rose from the bench and turned around, his posture completely straight and his muscles tensed.

"Lord Aldertree."

"The ship is about to reach the harbour. Being late would reflect badly upon the crown's hospitality," Aldertree reminded him with a disapproving frown. The man had arrived at court a few days ago, and his presence was decidedly an unwanted one.

"Isabelle, are you almost ready?" Alec asked kindly, although none of that kindness translated into the sharp glare he sent Aldertree. The man had shown an unhealthy amount of interest in the Lightwood family, and while Alec forfeited his House's colours when donning the golden cloak of the King's Guard, he still felt extremely protective regarding his sister.

"Certainly. Excuse me for my bad courtesy. A lady should never leave a gentleman waiting," Isabelle said with a smile so bright it was clear mockery, grabbing Alec's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Lady Lydia is almost done."

"You would have been ready earlier if you hadn't insisted on getting your hair redone," Lydia stated in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, quickly finishing the last of the braid before securing some loose strands that had escaped throughout the process.

"My maids never bother to listen to me. They seem to have forgotten that I'm not my lady mother," Isabelle complained. "It is not expected of me to govern. Instead, I have to seduce. I can't do that when I'm dressed like the prime of my years is beyond me, can I, Lord Aldertree?"

"Most certainly not, my lady," Victor Aldertree responded, but the amiable expression that dominated his features did not reach his eyes. "You look positively gorgeous. The Angel's mortal daughters would be jealous if they only so much as caught a glimpse."

"Thank you, my lord. I wouldn't want to insult Lord Meliorn and his host by not looking my very best."

"Admirable, my lady. If only next time you could try to do this in a more timely manner."

"We will arrive there with time to spare, the welcoming party has been kept to a minimum. Seelie knights are not particularly fond of unnecessary traditional procedures," Alec defended his sister, before turning to Lydia. "Are you done?"

"It seems so," the blonde woman said, giving him a nod of approval. As if that was her cue, Isabelle rose deftly. She made to reach for her brother's arm, but reconsidered when Aldertree offered her his instead. Alec watched, his gut feeling uncomfortably tangled, as her fingers curled neatly around the crease of Aldertree's elbow.

"Thank you, Lydia," Isabelle said happily, before leaning over to press a soft kiss onto the woman's cheek.

"My pleasure, Lady Isabelle," Lydia said with a curtsy.

They turned heads as they made their way back through the Great Hall. Alec was clad in his full armour, the black plate glistening marvellously and the gold of his silk cloak flowing down from his shoulders gracefully. His sister was absolutely beautiful as usual, with a flowing, bright red gown that had a tight, embroidered bodice and a skirt that cascaded down her long frame and fluttered around her legs. The top of the bodice as well as her sleeves were decorated with fine silk from Ardúr, its quality unquestionable. Lydia had laced the stems of several red flowers through Isabelle's braid, and with her fiery red lips, she looked like she had walked straight out of a minstrel's song. Isabelle's beauty was infamous in many kingdoms, and the fact that she, a maid of nine-and-ten, was still unwed made her only more desirable. Lord Aldertree was a man from the Clave, which meant that he was automatically despised by most at the royal court. He was a dangerous man, and his reputation far exceeded him.

A small party had accumulated in the courtyard to ride through the city and to the harbour to visit their guests from the Seelie Isles. It was a quiet endeavour; while appreciated for their outstanding prowess in combat, Seelie knights were not the most welcome guests. It was said that they lived off of fruit and sweetened water, and that their lifestyle forbade them from lying. This, however, did not mean they spoke truthfully. Instead, they spoke in riddles and outsmarted everyone, making them not only extremely dangerous, but also unlikeable.

Lord Meliorn was the representative of the Seelie Court, who was to sit on the small council and aid in governing the kingdom through the ongoing crisis. The small council was going to be a tumultuous endeavour from this moment on. While the concept behind the council was good, its execution was often quite hard to accomplish. The Seelie people despised the Clave, as did the Children of the Night. The Children and the City Watch had a natural hatred for one another, and the attendance of both Lady Maryse and Hodge Starkweather had always led to much controversy. It was uncommon for kings to allow traitors in their most private circles, and yet, albeit both were pardoned, the current king had two in his small council.

"A Seelie knight, eh? I'm sure you can do better than that," Lord Rendol, a round-bellied man whose hairline was quickly crawling back across his forehead, said as Isabelle mounted her piebald gelding with the help of Lord Aldertree. It was unnecessary; she was perfectly capable of mounting the horse herself, but she still thanked the lord graciously for his help, especially since the nervous horse seemed to have a tendency to shy away from Lord Aldertree's hands.

"He has wonderful taste in gifts," Isabelle replied easily as she rearranged her skirts. Alec kept a close eye on her as he mounted Arrow. The silver horse was energetic; after the wounds had healed, the fur unsurprisingly growing back white, she had immediately returned to her normal, enthusiastic self. "He gave me a beautiful sand coloured horse with the sweetest temperament, as well as the finest jewellery." Isabelle touched the ruby necklace at her throat to emphasise her point.

"And yet you ride a horse with the looks of a cow?" the lord jested.

"If I wanted a well-behaved horse I would have chosen one myself," Isabelle responded pleasantly. "There is a beauty in a skittish animal that has character, and that looks remarkable as well. There is no horse that looks precisely like this one, whereas the Seelie Isles are roamed by countless sand-coloured mounts. I gave the horse to my cousin, so she can learn how to ride. Now, if you will excuse me."

Alec smiled at her when Isabelle nudged her horse forward. The procession came into motion. When they had passed through the gate, they proceeded to travel in an easy trot and canter as they travelled down the dwindling road to the city down below. The castle itself was built safely upon the Shadow Hill, where the first king of Idris had settled.

"Making friends?" Alec asked Isabelle.

"Always. There is something about men that encourages them to make themselves superior at the cost of others. It does not matter whether it's comparing the sizes of their cocks or the sharpness of their swords. They have the wits of horny stallions and then they wonder why they fail to court prettier women."

"What an interesting opinion to have," Lord Aldertree commented from Alec's other side. A ring of Herondale guards, glistening in their gold armour with their white cloaks, formed a protective barrier around them, transporting the lords riding out to meet the Seelie visitors like they were precious cargo. Inside of the circle, Alec led the group of highborns.

"I am just sharing my observations, my lord. Nothing more," Isabelle responded sweetly.

The ride through the city was uneventful. They arrived just in time; the ship was already docking. They greeted Meliorn appropriately after the knight had mounted his white horse. The horse had a long mane that cascaded down its thin neck in beautiful waves, with small flowers braided into the coarse hair. Its head was small and refined, and the horse itself looked like it was made out of porcelain, and not real flesh. It was nervous when it was led off the ship, but calmed down when Lord Meliorn put a gentle hand on its neck. When the most prominent members of the Seelie host had exited the ship, they started their journey back to the castle.

"Isabelle," Meliorn said in a silky voice as he rode beside her. "You are as fair as always, my lady."

"You are too kind, my lord," Isabelle responded with a giggle, fluttering her eyelashes.

"How was your journey, Lord Meliorn?" Alec asked courteously; as the king's primary guard, it was expected of him to be at least somewhat amiable.

"Tedious. The summer sea is gentle and emptied of fish. I can remember the journeys I made as a boy, when there would be dolphins gracing either side of the hull of the ship. Now, all we have is emptiness. And festivities, of course. Ser Lightwood, will you be competing in the jousting?"

"Yes," Alec responded. "I have to defend my title."

"Three times champion, I am aware. A feat that is rare, albeit not unheard of. I think this year you might find yourself with some more… challenging competition, however."

"One of your knights is competing, Meliorn?" Isabelle inquired.

"No, I will be competing myself. I have been gifted one of those ill-tempered horses, you might know the kind, the ones that are the size of a small boat. Not my preferable mount, but it will have to do. I would not want to ride the likes of our own horses into such useless and ruthless combat. It would be a waste, they are too sensitive. Is your horse injured, my sweet lady?"

"No, the mare is completely healthy. My niece fell in love with her, however, and I did not have the heart to tear the animal away from her. I am sure you will forgive me such soft-heartedness?" There was nothing about Isabelle that was soft-hearted, but Meliorn did not know that. Isabelle had always made sure to present her most desirable side to him, leaving the witty, intelligent woman a separate identity reserved for just those she trusted. It pained Alec to see her disregard herself in such a manner, but it was a necessary evil according to his sister. Most lords did not fancy a lady who talked back, after all.

The trip back fortunately occurred without any disturbances or fundamental disagreements, and Meliorn helped Isabelle off her horse when they arrived at the courtyard. Stable boys came rushing out, taking away Isabelle's piebald gelding, Meliorn's long-haired white stallion, a horse that was as pretty as any Alec had ever seen, Alec's own silver mare, and all the other mounts.

Lord Aldertree walked beside Meliorn and Isabelle as they proceeded to the Great Hall, where a feast was to be prepared. The body language of both men, however, showed that there was no friendship between the two, just amiable courtesies. Alec stayed in the back of the hall after they had entered, taking his position next to the door until the king would arrive. The hall had already filled with countless members of nobility, and he could see his lady mother on the dais on the other side of the large hall. It hadn't taken them long to retrieve Meliorn from the harbour, and the transformation the hall had undergone in preparation for supper in such a short period of time was simply astounding.

"That looks like it could become a problem," a low voice said next to him. Alec looked to the side to see a man he knew very well; Ser Lucian Garroway, otherwise known as the Greymarked, a title he acquired after being wounded terribly in an attempt to combat the wolfmen roaming the mountainsides. It was rumoured the severe injury had caused him to become a wolfman himself, but if such talk was true, Alec did not know. He had never seen any proof that might suggest this was indeed the truth. Ser Garroway was the captain of the City Watch.

"Tell me about it," Alec said with a smile, accepting Luke's hand and giving him a pat on the back, the metal of his gauntlet clanking loudly against the plate of Garroway's armour.

"I heard some troubling tales about you, young friend," Luke said, eyeing Alec up and down. "But if even part of them were true, I wouldn't know anyway. I swear your armour gets more elaborate with the day."

"I could say the same about yours, although not in a praising manner," Alec responded.

Luke shrugged. "What is a good plate if it doesn't have a battle scar?" His dark grey armour was littered with dents and scratches and patches of overlapping metal where it had been mended badly. For a commander, Garroway managed to look extremely shabby.

"One that isn't brittle?" Alec offered. Luke laughed, before quickly silencing themselves. They were guards; they were supposed to blend in with the walls, and to not attract any unnecessary attention.

"But, demons?"

"Yeah, apparently they're quite venomous."

"I'm glad you healed up nicely, boy. The King's Guard needs you. Someone has to keep the fingers together." The King's Guard consisted of ten members; all of them sworn to protect the king until their deaths, and to take no property and no woman in marriage. They were otherwise referred to as the king's fingers, because they enforced his will and protected him as well as a shield and sword should. Alec was one of the most important members, and had grown to become an unofficial commander over the years he'd spent in the king's guard. While some claimed it was because of his close ties to the king, the truth was that Alec was a born leader, and people followed him easily and willingly.

When Jace entered, Alec excused himself from Garroway, and fell into step on the right side of his king.

"Evening, Alec," Jace said sombrely, before flashing him a bright smile over his shoulder. "I went out for a hunt earlier this morning. You have to see the boar I skewed, I swear, it is the biggest I have ever seen. A true monstrosity."

"Hunting without me?" Alec teased.

"It is better that way. You always get the good kills before I have even spotted anything that might potentially be alive. Going out hunting with you is very tedious, Ser show-off."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Your Grace," Alec mocked, although he was truly relieved to see Jace in a better mood. The many council meetings that had been called lately had taken a toll on Jace's mood, and he was not very pleasant to be around when his mood turned sour.

"Everything suits the Golden King, better remember that." Jace winked at him before walking up the dais and taking his seat. When he sat down, everyone else lowered himself onto their seats as well, having risen when the monarch initially entered the hall. Jace turned to address the people, raising his voice. It thundered through the Hall as he made his jests. "Good evening, everyone. It pleases me to announce that the party sent by the Seelie Isles to represent them during the festivities celebrating the new year, as well as to advise me on the council, has arrived safely. Lord Meliorn, it's a pleasure to have you in our midst again. As long as you don't steal all the ladies." A snicker went through the Hall, all of them delighted by Jace's easy mannerisms. "Now, let us dine. I'm certain you're all starving." The crowd agreed, and musicians started to play as the food was dished out.

Pleasant, respectful chatter soon filled the Hall as everyone turned to their food and their neighbours. The evening itself went fairly well, although it did have its inevitable complications. A maid accidentally served a Seelie knight venison, which was not something that was pardoned easily since the Seelies lived on a diet that excluded all animal-made produce, and another tripped and upended a jug of wine into someone's lap. Fortunately, these mistakes occurred far from the dais, and did not offend any important guests.

Alec stood beside Jace and listened to the conversations that were going on about him. Jace was talking to Meliorn, who had been invited to sit nearer to him in honour of his visit, while Isabelle looked withdrawn and didn't speak unless there was a lull in the conversation, which she was expected to fill.

"So, this council? Who sits on it?" Meliorn asked between sips of his sweetened water, which they had brought along themselves. The beverage smelt almost unpleasantly sweet, and not quite like any natural product Alec had ever encountered.

"I made certain to include such vital information in the official document that was sent for you to agree upon," Raphael stated pleasantly, but Meliorn seemed unfazed.

"So I saw. Quite a bit of scrawling, and a waste of good parchment. But I find it hard to believe words penned by someone who is, unrightfully so, renowned to be a spider. Perhaps a puppeteer would be a better term, would you not agree? A spider has plenty of uses, whereas a puppeteer has, ah, none."

"The Council is quite simple," Isabelle quickly said, breaking apart the conversation before insult could lead to injury. "It consists of Lady Maryse, the former queen regent, Hodge Starkweather in recognition for his knowledge of medicine, herbs and poisons as well as geography and history, Raphael to represent the Children of the Night.

"With them, we have Ser Lucian Garroway, the captain of the City Watch, at least one representative of the King's Guard to ensure the safety of the council, Master Fell, if he can attend, and Lord Meul from Windleston in the north, as our channel into the winter lands," Isabelle finished smoothly. Ser Garroway and Jace seemed to be immersed in intense conversation, while Master Fell had asked to be excused and was not able to attend the supper. It wasn't surprising; Master Fell was hard to get a hold of, and the arrival of Lord Meliorn was hardly an event that required his direct supervision.

Upon hearing his name, however, a most definitely intoxicated Lord Meul leant over from his place on the lower dais and engaged in conversation with Meliorn. "So, what is it you drink? I have heard rumours. Bird pee? Horse pee? A concoction of poisonous berries?"

"Would you like to try some, Lord Meul?" Meliorn offered pleasantly, his goblet in hand.

Isabelle locked her gaze with Alec's then, beckoning him over silently. He moved swiftly behind the chairs, leaning down so it would be easier for Isabelle to speak in private.

"Remind Jace that this supper is unpleasant, and it should be ended before something happens. Raphael has been sporting the most curious expression. I am not sure if that smirk ought to convey his smugness, or is just a cover to hide his sulking, but I like it not." His sister was right; Alec had noticed it himself, as well. And if time had taught him anything, it was most definitely that a smug Raphael was a very, very dangerous one.

Alec nodded and was about to straighten up when a flash of emerald caught his eye, and he immediately froze in place as his mind made the clear connection.

"Alec? Are you okay?" Isabelle whispered softly, giving his hand a little tug.

But the only thing Alec could see was the tall figure that walked around in servant's clothes; the rough beige homespun did nothing to hide who it was. He recognised the swaying of the hips, the greenness of the eyes, the keenness of the smile. He recognised how tall the person was and how graceful he moved, like the world was made just for him and the air parted to let him through. He'd always walked like there was nothing stopping him, nothing providing even the slightest bit of resistance.

When Alec could finally breathe again, he whispered a simple word, his voice hoarse as his heart fluttered erratically in his chest, his limbs alight with nervousness and the urge to run to the person in question and get him away from this place. What had possessed him? This was potentially the least safe place for him to be, and yet there he was, dressed like a simple servant, smiling graciously at the guests as he poured them wine and served them their dishes.

"Magnus."


End file.
